The Little Things That Come Back To Haunt You
by StrigoiVii
Summary: Complete! Sam's missing, again, and Dean needs to find him. Too bad for Dean, something's dogging him too, and it's not necessarily supernatural either. Can Bobby save the day, or are all three hunters doomed to a fate worse then death? Sick Dean galore!
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Perpetual motion. It was the phrase Sam always thought when he watched his brother, never sitting still, never idle, always moving as he drove down yet another dark and lonely stretch of road always seeming to be going nowhere and everywhere, all at the same time, fingers tapping to the beat of some long forgotten big hair band Sam couldn't even identify, and didn't really want to try. They'd been driving for hours, the view from Sam's passenger seat window nothing but black and white as the snow that had been piled at least a foot high on either side of the highway's blacktop whizzed by, somewhat mesmerizing him at the wonders of mother nature. Why she would need to dump that much snow on the ground at one time amazed him, it was the reason they'd been held up for the last two days in some god-forsaken little town in Montana, a town that Sam couldn't even remember the name of. Two days it took for them to clear the roads, two days of going stir crazy with nothing to look at but each other, two days of listening to Dean bitch about how inept small towns were at dealing with snow, even though they knew they would get dumped on every year like clockwork. Yeah, Dean had been exceptionally irritable the last two days, and Sam was grateful when they were finally back on the road, back in motion.

He'd napped for the last couple hours, the scenery nothing much to look at unless you dreamed of a white Christmas, but Dean had been driving for the better part of the day, and now that it was well into night, Sam could tell he was dog tired. His yawning came more and more frequently as his knuckles dug into his eyes more and more often, rubbing harder and harder each and every time in an effort to keep himself awake, the dark road disappearing under them as they drove, threatening to hypnotize him into sleep. So, he watched Dean just turn up the volume on his radio and tap away on the steering wheel as he drove.

"Where did you say we were going Dean?" Sam broke the verbal silence, cringing when he heard the huff that escaped his brother lips before answering him for what felt like the tenth time today.

"Chester, Montana. Population of 871 humans and apparently one very nasty Yeti," he answered in an irritated tone, thumb thumping harder against the wheel as he tried concentrating on the road.

"How far out are we? We've been driving all day, aren't you getting tired? Do you want me to drive for a while?" _'Oh shit, why the hell did I say that out loud?' _Sam asked himself, unable to take the last half of the question back but wishing with all his heart that he could, wanting nothing more then to tuck it back into his head and forget he ever thought it, let alone said it.

Another huff and the roll of his eyes later, Dean answered his brother as calmly as he possibly could, not really in the mood to argue anymore, and not really sure himself why he was so irritable. He knew he was taking things out on his brother, he just didn't know what those things were. Well, he did really know, he just wasn't telling. "We're almost there Sam, maybe another hour," was all he said, ignoring the rest of the question altogether. Yes, he was tired: yes, he was irritable: and yes, he just wanted to curl up in a nice warm bed and go to sleep, but first, they had to get where they were going, and he just wished Sam could stay quiet for one more hour, but he knew that wasn't going to happen. Once he was wound up, Sam just couldn't stop.

"And let me make sure I heard you right, you said we were hunting a Yeti, didn't you? When we catch it, are we going jackalope hunting too? Come on Dean, Yetis don't exist, you know that," Sam rambled, knowing it was annoying his brother, but the thought of hunting a Yeti, and in Montana no less, was absolutely ridiculous, and Sam was going to make damn sure he pointed that out.

"Yeah Marlin Perkins, I know they don't exist in the Wild Kingdom, but something is mutilating the wildlife out there, and it's not anything natural. Groups of deer and rabbits have been ripped to shreds and piled up in neat little stacks, all drained of blood. What kind of animal does that Sam?" He didn't wait for Sam to answer, he just kept talking. "That's right, none, so we are going to at least check it out before it decides to venture into Chester, Montana and start snacking on the 871 fine residents there, ok?"

Dean was just about out of breath by the time he'd finished his mini-vent, and unfortunately for him, he was unable to suppress the true source of his irritation from the past few days any longer as his fist flew up to his face in an attempt to stifle the coughing that was now forcing it's way out, Dean no longer being able to control it anymore. The second he heard it, the low rumble coming from his brother's chest, Sam also knew instantaneously why his brother was being such an asshole, and now he immediately felt guilty for not noticing it sooner.

_'Some brother I am,' _he thought to himself as his eyes bored into his brother's face. He'd been so put off by Dean's constant irritability and need to bicker like a girl he'd never noticed the heavy bags under his eyes, or how much he'd actually slept over the last two days. It hadn't occurred to him either that the more his brother had slept, the darker and heavier the bags became. He'd also failed to notice that Dean hadn't been eating much over the last couple days, blaming it on the lack of good selection and their surroundings. He'd even passed on a night out to a perfectly good bar just down the street from the relatively clean motel they were holed up in, even after Sam had said **HE** wanted to go. Yep, all the signs were there, Sam just failed to see them, and it made him feel like shit. Even looking at Dean now in the dark interior of the Impala, Sam could finally see what he'd been ignorant of all along. His brother looked like hell, plain and simple.

Dean saw the motion from the corner of his eye and cut it off instantly, his eyes never leaving the road as he doled out his threat to his now overly-concerned brother. "Sam, if that hand of yours so much as brushes against my forehead I swear to god I'll rip it off at the elbow and beat you with it," he grumbled and Sam just raised both hands in mock surrender, not saying another word as he just turned his head and continued watching the snow pass by.

Sam being Sam though just couldn't keep quiet for long, but he was at least smart enough to change the subject. "Where'd you hear about this 'hunt' Dean?" It was all news to Sam because he just couldn't even find anything about Chester online, other then the fact that it was in Montana when he'd briefly looked while Dean was packing up the car before they'd left.

"Bobby sent me a text. Some friends of his live in Chester and were hoping he would come and check it out. He said he was somewhere in Arkansas and wouldn't be back for a few days, but knew we were already in Montana and asked us to at least look into it. Sounds like a wild goose chase to me, but we owe Bobby big, so here we are." Finally spitting out the entire explanation, he found himself short of breath again, this time not even bothering to hide the coughing fit he'd finally decided to just let out, now that Sam already knew. Sam gave him **that **look, but Dean ignored it and just kept driving, indicating to him he just better drop it, which he did, for now, but not for long.

"So, we hit Chester, get a room, crash for the night, and check out the Abominable Snowman in the morning? That it?" Sam asked, Dean already knowing where he was gong, his tone of voice asking a whole different question altogether.

"I'm fine Sam, it's just a cough, and yeah, that's it. Now just drop it, please!" He was getting a little more then just irritated now, and Sam knew it.

Sam finally did let it drop, knowing he'd pushed Dean to the brink, not wanting to push him over the edge and start something far worse then just a war of words. He sat in silence for the next half hour, sure their destination was close now. They had both fallen back into their own thoughts and both men jumped almost out of their skin when they'd heard the loud pop, followed by the lurch of the car to one side, Dean momentarily overcorrecting before regaining control and pulling the car over to the snow covered shoulder, sure one of the tires had blown.

Taking a few deep breaths to regain his composure, Dean just shot Sam a look and grabbed the door handle of the car to get out and survey the damage. Sam reached for his arm and caught hold of a handful of jacket as he tried to stop his brother, offering to get out and check himself.

"I'll go look, you stay here," he told Dean, pulling on his own door handle to get out. Dean just jerked his arm from his brother's grasp and got out, slamming the door behind him and feeling irritated all over again at Sam's need to treat him like a child the instant he thought something was wrong. Sam caught the hint too, and just stayed in the car, not wanting to face the wrath of Dean right now. He was like a caged animal when he was sick, and Sam did not want to intentionally set him off.

He walked around carefully to the passenger side of his baby and dropped to one knee, his assumption dead on the money as he looked at the blown out back tire. He examined it carefully, trying to figure out what the hell had blown it in the first place. He'd just checked them before they had left, making sure they were all properly inflated and still had plenty of tread. The only thing he could think of was that he must have driven over something, because his tires were in perfect shape, the key word being perfect. When it came to his car, Dean kept everything perfect.

Rising back up, he gave the tire a swift kick before heading to the trunk and popping it open, grabbing the tire iron and jack and throwing both the to the ground as he dug in further for the spare, his finger catching on something sharp and slicing a nice tear in it.

"Son-of-a-bitch!" he yelled, and not quietly either as he tossed the tire down next to the jack and sucked in a deep lungful of air before bending down to start the tire changing process, the cold filling his lungs starting yet another fit of coughs, making Dean spit out the nasty fluid that had somehow found its way into his mouth, making him gag. "This is just f'n great," he cursed and just went to work.

He situated the jack under the frame and cranked up the car just enough to raise the whole body off the ground to remove the flat, only to have to swear at himself as he lowered it back down to loosen the lug nuts. If his father had stressed the importance of one thing only, it had been that you NEVER loosen the lug nuts with the car jacked up. You were just asking for it to fall off the jack if you did. The nuts all finally loose, he started jacking the car back up again, only to be stopped this time by the low rumble of an engine pulling up behind him.

"Great, just what I need, some yahoo with half his teeth offering help that I obviously don't' need. This day just gets better and bet…" he mumbled to himself, his words and thoughts trailing off when he saw the half-toothed yahoo was actually a rather buxom blonde beauty staring at him with her hands on her hips and a twinkle in her eye.

"Need a hand there handsome?" She asked with a coy look in her eye, her smile speaking a thousand words itself.

Dean stood to his full height and cocked his head to the side, is own winning smile spreading wide across his face as he arched his brows and replied, "Which one you offering, the left or the right?"

She raised the gun she'd been holding at her side, quickly taking aim and firing before Dean even had a chance to react, the dart propelling itself forward and hitting him right in the neck. "I think the right," she told him as his knees buckled, all his weight landing hard against the trunk before he fell onto the cold ground, the drugs now working their way into him and paralyzing him as his mind slipped into the dark, never once being able to utter one word.

Sam reacted first to the heavy thud against the trunk, then to the sound of the snow mobile approaching, and no longer seeing his brother behind him, climbed from the car to find out what the hell had happened to him. He didn't think Dean was that sick, but when it came down Dean, anything was possible. He saw the pretty blonde woman leaning over his brother as he laid sprawled out on the ground, and Sam made a mad dash for his side, never once seeing the other blonde woman standing behind him, her own weapon trained at his back as she pulled her trigger, the drug filled dart she shot hitting dead center and lodging in his back. He immediately crashed to his knees and slumped forward, his face resting against his brother's shoulder, both men unaware of the other.

_End Notes:_

_Thanks to all that put up with all my indulgences! Don't know what I'd do without it!_


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Just a little note to say that this story is posted at another site, but I really thought the name sucked, so I renamed it here. If it sounds familiar, that's why. Sorry.

Chapter 2

"Well, that was easier then I thought it would be. I thought you said these guys were good," the blonde haired woman asked her helmeted partner as she tucked her gun into the back of her pants before giving Dean a gentle kick in the shoulder, then another one to Sam, making sure neither man was still lingering in the conscious world.

"They are good, at least that one is," she retorted as she removed her headgear and goggles to reveal the rest of her long blonde locks and her identically matching face as she threw a nudge of her own into Dean's foot.

"I guess that just means we're better then them," she laughed, this time giving Dean's prone form a good, hard kick right in the ribs, telling herself it was just to make sure he was out, but knowing better. She did it because it made her feel good.

"Do **not** underestimate either one of them Isabel, they are smarter and more dangerous then they look. Never let your guard down with these two, never." she ordered, knowing much more about the boys then Isabel did.

"Yeah, well, they don't look smarter or very dangerous right now, do they Ilsa? In fact, they actually look kinda cute laying there sleeping like little babies," Isabel laughed again, giving Sam a little kick this time, feeling the need to share her joy with not just Dean.

"That's enough with the kicking, we don't want them damaged too badly. We do still need them, remember?" Ilsa shot her twin a stern look. Clearly, she was the one in charge.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Like a couple kicks to the ribs are gonna hurt much compared to what they're in for. So, which one are we taking? I say we take the cute one," Isabel stated excitedly, giving Dean one more gentle kick to indicate to Ilsa just which one she thought was the cute one was.

"No. We're taking the other one, we're taking Sam. Dean is the stronger, a better hunter, the better tracker, and the better brother. He'll come for Sam, you'll see. Let's get moving, we don't have much time left before they come around, and we still have a lot to do," Ilsa informed Isabel in no uncertain terms that her decision was final.

"Humph, fine," was Isabel's only response as she went to work.

She stomped back to her truck and started rummaging through the bed, retrieving a long coil of rope and a canvas sack. The contents of the sack started squirming as she dropped it onto the ground and started dragging it in Sam's direction. She reached into her pockets and produced a long, plastic tie that she quickly used to bind Sam's hands together behind his back, then dug out a roll of black electrical tape that she tightly wrapped around his ankles, making sure there was no give for him to move. Isabel motioned to Ilsa that she was ready and as she dropped the tailgate on her rusty old pickup, Ilsa took hold of Sam under his arms and dragged him up. Isabel took hold of his feet and in an effortless move, the two petite women threw Sam into the bed of the truck like a rag doll, the hard thump not even causing him to stir. Isabel slammed the tailgate shut and approached Ilsa, who was now standing over Dean's still oblivious body and studied him carefully. Yes, he was the better choice of the two, without a doubt.

"I think we've made the right choice, you'll see," she told Isabel as she tied the canvas bag to the back of her snowmobile, the contents inside thrashing wildly now. Dropping down to one knee in the cold snow, she drew out a long hunting knife from a sheath attached to her hip and drove it into the sack, the screech of whatever was inside ignored as blood started to flow from it, soaking through the thick fabric and staining the pure white snow an ugly shade of crimson. Replacing her helmet and goggles, she climbed back on and turned to Isabel. "I'm taking the long way. I don't want to make it that easy for him," she told her as she turned the key, slowly taking off as she dragged the bleeding sack behind her.

Isabel made her way back to her truck, pausing briefly at the remaining Winchester as he lay on the cold, hard ground and watched him breathe somewhat raggedly for a moment, giving him one more good, hard kick to the other set of ribs she hadn't kicked yet, making sure she got the pair. She shook her head at him briefly before grabbing him by the leg and dragging his limp body across the ground on his back to the side of his car.

"No sense in leaving you out to freeze to death, that would kinda ruin all our plans, wouldn't it?" She said to Dean, knowing full well he couldn't hear her. Throwing open the back door as she grabbed him by the jacket, she lifted him up and threw him in like his weight was nothing, the slamming of the door being the final straw to knock the car off the jack and leaving a deep gouge in the black metal.

"See you real soon Dean," she laughed as she strolled back to her truck, climbed in and pulled away, taking Sam with her.

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Dean didn't know what was worse. The throbbing in is head was intense and he tried to figure out just what in the hell he'd been drinking all night that gave him the hangover from hell he currently had. Then there was the wad of cotton that he was sure had been stuffed in his mouth while he slept that vaguely tasted like Sam's dirty socks, not that he would really know what Sam's dirty socks tasted like, but if he ever had the occasion to find out, he was pretty sure this would be it. Or it could be the nagging ache in is ribs, like someone had used him as the stand in a game of blind-man tee-ball. And if it wasn't one of those three, then it could be the campfire that the elephant sitting on his chest had lit that burned like a bitch every time he tried to breathe. He was cold, stiff and sore and if it hadn't been for the familiar scent of the leather his face was buried in he probably wouldn't have the slightest idea where he was.

The scent only really narrowed things down though. Sure, he knew he was in the backseat of his baby, but where and why was he parked somewhere sleeping in the cold? _'Oh yeah, hangover.'_ he thought, figuring he'd pulled his drunk ass over to sleep it off. Funny thing was, he couldn't remember even going to a bar last night, hell, he couldn't remember anything from last night. _"Sam's probably pissed' _he added to the previous thought as he made a concentrated effort to open his eyes while he rolled himself onto his back and rummaged through his pockets in search of his phone. Eyes half open and cell in hand, he looked out the back window and saw that day had just started to break on the horizon. _'Sam is most definitely going to kill me'._ Flipping open the phone and hitting Sam's speed dial key, he waited patiently for his call to connect, his brows setting themselves into a deep furrow when the unmistakable tune of Sam's ring tone of the week started chiming back at him from the front seat.

"Sam, you up there?" He had to ask even though he was pretty sure the seat was empty. He would have heard Sam moving if he had been up there, that god awful song coming from his cell enough to wake the dead. _"How does Sam listen to that crap anyway?'_

Squeezing his own phone shut, he silently thanked god when Sam's went quiet. Drawing in a deep breath in preparation of sitting up, Dean got his lungs half full before they decided on their own that they'd had enough and sent his chest into spasms that turned into hacking coughs as they worked their way up and out the way they'd come in. He rolled onto his side and hung his head over the seat, unable to stop the fit as he just rode it out, his hand over his mouth catching the nasty greenish-brown mess coming out before it landed on his floorboards. He may be sick, but he sure as hell wasn't messing up his car because of it.

"Note to self, don't do that again," he said as he drew in shorter, quicker breaths this time and gave himself a few minutes to let the oxygen return to his head before he tried sitting up again.

Effort number two was much more successful as Dean rose to a sit and scanned the interior of the car, mainly the front seat. There was Sam's phone, resting against the seat in his shotgun position, little red light flashing to indicate he had a missed call. Looking a little to the left, he frowned again when he saw that the keys were still hanging in the ignition. _'Ok Sammy, where the hell did you go?'_ he thought, leaning to the right to peer out the window. He looked at the tire, lug nuts and jack on the ground and suddenly it all came back to him.

Sam's attempt at mothering, their argument, the tire blowout, the blonde. The blonde with the gun. The blonde with the gun that had shot him. He rubbed at his neck where the dart had struck him and winced when his fingers found the exact spot, the pain it produced sending waves of panic through him now that he was pretty sure he had no clue as to where Sam was.

Flipping open his phone once again, he dialed Bobby's, oblivious to the time of day and not even knowing where the man may be. He waited and waited for an answer, the call finally being completed just before voice mail would have kicked in.

"Dean, is that you?" The tone was more gravelly then usual and obviously full of sleep. "Something must be wrong if you're calling me at the crack of dawn so let's have it."

"Bobby, I need to know how well you know those friends of yours that asked you to come to Chester," he told him in an overly excited tone.

"What the hell are you talking about Dean? I don't know anyone in Chester, and where the hell in Chester anyway?"

"Montana. You sent me a text yesterday asking us to check out some animal mutilations there. You said you had some friends there that asked for help, said you were in Arkansas, asked us to look into it for you, didn't you?" Dean's tone had gone from excited to puzzled in a matter of seconds. He definitely didn't like where this conversation was going.

"Boy, I haven't been out of bed in the last four days. I knew I should have gotten that flu shot when Sam did. What's going on Dean? Are you two in some kind of trouble?" Stupid question, weren't the Winchester boys always in some kind of trouble? Something in the way Dean spoke was making the older man start to worry.

"Someone ambushed us Bobby, and now Sam's missing."

"Ambushed you? How?"

"Long story. Can you see what you can find out about Chester for me. We're about twenty miles east. I need to know where exactly we are and what the hell's around here."

"You got it, I'll call you back when I find something out. Dean, be careful," he issued the statement knowing full well it would be ignored, but felt the need to express it anyway.

"Careful is my middle name Bobby," Dean tried to laugh and only found himself stifling another cough instead.

"Bullshit. Train wreck is your middle name," Bobby commented before Dean hung up and shoved his phone back into his pocket.

He jerked open the door and climbed out into the frigid, early morning air searching in every direction, searching in every direction for some sign of his brother. The sign he found he knew he didn't like as he stared at it, the red trail against the white snow standing out to him like a lighthouse through the dense ocean fog. He trudged through the snow and followed the trail with his eyes as it went off into the distance, knowing he really only had one option. Praying again that it wasn't Sam's blood, he knew he had to follow it. He was sure someone had taken Sam and right now, the blood trail was his only lead. Returning to the car, he grabbed his keys form the ignition and locked it up tight before he popped the trunk and prepared himself for his impending trek through the barren wasteland of snow before him.

Tearing through his duffle, he kicked off his boots and pulled on a couple extra pairs of socks, cringing slightly when he tried shoving his feet back into them, any spare room he'd had now gone as his feet were partially crushed inside. At least they'd be warm though. He stripped his jacket off and added a few extra layers of flannel before replacing the leather back over the top and prayed it would be enough to keep him warm since he had absolutely no idea how far his walk would be.

He definitely wasn't going unarmed either as he stuffed his .45 into his pants against his back, tucked a box of ammo into his pocket and strapped his favorite knife to his belt. Grabbing the first aid kit, he dug out the ever present bottle of Tylenol and threw two in his mouth before recapping the container and shoving it into another pocket, pretty sure he was going to need them later. Finally putting a flask of holy water into his breast pocket 'just in case', he took the last bottle of water they had with them, made another mental note to get more later, then slammed the trunk shut, finally prepared to go.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Sam felt the heat against his face, not overwhelmingly intense but sweat inducing nonetheless as he felt the beads occasionally drip down his brow as he struggled to drag himself from the deep state of sleep he'd fallen into, not really sure he wanted to come out of it just yet. It was peaceful, and he was actually enjoying it. He wasn't sure where he was, but he was sure that wherever it was it was pretty damn warm, wherever exactly that may be. He cracked open one eye at a time, and rather slowly at that, as the fuzziness started to dissipate from his head and looked around rather warily. Directly in front of him burned a roaring fire, the crisp smell of cedar filling the air as the wood blazed away, the glow from the fire the only source of illumination in the entire room. The room itself, from what he could see, was cozy. Above the fireplace were numerous photos in neat little wooden frames, just a little too far and a little too dark to make out, but obviously family photos nonetheless. There was a dark beige couch on one side of the hearth and a equally dark beige chair on the other, a large brown animal fur rug laying over the hardwood floor spread out between the two, and Sam just prayed it wasn't real. The couch had light blue throw pillows and a darker blue quilt thrown over the back for decoration, making the picture complete. It was very country, very homey, and pretty much what you'd expect from a house deep in the woods. He thought about that for a minute, trying to figure out how he'd gotten into a house deep in the woods since he really couldn't piece together the last few hours when he saw her, cross-legged on the floor with her elbows resting on her knees and her chin in her hands, staring up at him with a deep look of curiosity. Her gaze never left his face, even when he'd opened his eyes fully and stared right back, his brain not really being able to pull together any cognitive thoughts at that very second.

"Hey Ilsa, I think he's awake," her call finally dragging him from his trance, but not his stare, as the blonde girl on the floor spoke to someone that Sam just couldn't see, not once breaking eye contact with him. The stare was unnerving, and after a few long moments, Sam just couldn't stand it anymore, so he forced himself to look away.

He tried to move his arms, each and every effort coming up seemingly useless and looked left to right to see if he could figure out why. Both limbs were spread out wide and pinned down to a thick wooden board with plastic ties, steadfastly secured not only at the wrist but at the elbows and the upper arm at the shoulder. He met the same result when he tried moving his legs, finding them just as immobile as they were held tight against an opposing wooden beam at the ankles and knees. The only thing he found he could move were his fingers, and unfortunately for him, they were numb and he couldn't feel them anyway. He stood upright, somehow attached to the wall behind him, his neck stiff from his head hanging low and practically resting against his chest.

"Don't bother, you aren't going anywhere," she casually said to him, like he was some kind of circus sideshow strung up for her amusement.

Memories of a certain crazy family that liked hunting humans started flooding his mind, and somehow he knew he was in some serious trouble. That and the fact that his brother was no where to be seen or heard put him firmly at strike two. He tried to recall what had happened before he woke up in the easy-bake oven he found himself in, the temperature in the house easily above eighty degrees, not that he was complaining since it was brutally cold outside. '_Brutally cold outside, where exactly is outside anyway? Montana, that's right, we're in Montana. We're supposed to be checking out something, something Bobby asked us to. Oh yeah, the Yeti. I knew that was a load of crap!'_ The thoughts started making their way back to him as images bombarded his head one after another. Stranded in some crap town for two days with his overly irritable brother, constantly bickering with Dean, Dean's irritation at telling him repeatedly about where they were going, Dean getting all pissy when the tire blew and refusing to let Sam help him change it when he knew he was getting sick, Dean laying passed out on the snow covered shoulder of the road… _'Shit, where the hell is Dean?'_

"Where am I, and where's my brother?" He demanded, trying to sound like he was totally in control, even though he really wasn't in any position to demand anything.

The blonde on the floor just continued to stare as the one last detail of what he'd forgotten finally hit Sam's scattered brain. She was the last thing he'd seen before things went black, her standing over Dean as he was sprawled out on the cold pavement with what Sam would describe as a sneer spread across her face. His answer came to him, but not from her as she just sat there in silence staring. He was somewhat shocked to see her twin approach him and catch his stare and he instantly knew exactly who was in charge.

"Where you are isn't important, Sam Winchester. Just know that you are our guest for the time being, and if all goes well, we'll let you go. Don't worry, we have no intentions of harming you, unless you make us," she told him in a sweet, soft voice that was making Sam's skin start to crawl, especially the way she'd said his name. '_How the hell does she even know my name?'_. She was young and petite, barely out of her teens, but somehow there was an intelligence behind those eyes that defied time and age itself.

"What have you done with my brother?" He asked again, fear starting to churn in his stomach when she didn't answer him the first time.

"We haven't done anything with your brother Sam, for now we only want you."

"What do you mean you haven't done anything with my brother? You didn't leave him on the side of the road to freeze to death, did you?" Fear was starting to give way to terror at the thought of his brother laying out in the cold and dying alone while he was trapped with Barbie and Skipper.

"Don't worry, he'll survive. You and Dean come from though stock, don't you?" She replied, her smile spread wide as she said it. _'Great, not only does she know me, she knows Dean too. This just gets better and better.'_

There was something else in her eyes that he could see as she spoke, and he knew it was something very wrong. Sam could feel it more and more with every word she spoke. There was a hidden maliciousness to her tone, and he couldn't help but wonder just what exactly that crack was supposed to mean, and wondered how this young girl could possibly know what kind of stock he or his brother had come from.

"Whatever you want from me you may as well forget it right now. If you know what kind of stock we come from, then you know that Dean will stop at nothing to find me," Sam said defiantly, trying to convince himself that his brother would come for him as much as he tried telling them, the words themselves somewhat quelling the doubt he felt inside.

"Is that so? Well, we'll just have to see about that, won't we?" She sneered again, her tone no longer soft and sweet but harsh and deadly.

"Oh we will. Dean will come, you can count on that."

"That's exactly what we are counting on Sam, believe me, we're looking forward to it."

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The trek through the snow was hard and slow, each step more difficult then the step before. The snow cover was uneven, some spots only ankle deep but others covering his calves up to the knees, making it nearly impossible to walk more then a few inches at a step. His boots were soaked through to his feet along with his jeans making the fabric heavy and even harder to move. He had no feeling in his toes anymore and fully expected that to just start working its way up anytime now. He was breathing harder and harder with each step, finding it almost impossible to keep warm, other then the fire in his chest. Add that and the fact that the Tylenol he'd taken hadn't even scratched the surface of his headache yet and he was ready to just head back to the car and call it a day. Well, until he saw the ever expanding blood trail he was following.

It weaved left and right, through trees and clearings, but never once went completely out of sight. For that at least, Dean was grateful. If he lost the trail, he'd lose Sam, and he just couldn't lose Sam. So, onward he continued, feet numb, legs soaked, chest on fire, freezing his ass off, not planning on letting up until his brother was safe. He never heard his phone in his pocket singing it's Motley Crue'd tune until the third time it went off, the ringtone not catching his attention but the vibration he'd finally felt doing the trick instead.

"Bobby, wha…" was about all he could spit out before the hacking started, the pain in his chest with each cough driving him to his knees in the knee deep snow, almost burying him to his neck in the freezing white fluff. It seemed to go on for an eternity before he finally caught somewhat of a breath, the rattle with each inhale more pronounced with each intake. "Bobby, whatcha got for me?" He finally finished what he'd tried to say earlier, a few small hitches still escaping in-between words.

"You want me to wait while you pick that lung up off the ground an put it back where it belongs?" The concern was obvious in the older man's voice. "What the hell was that Dean? How long you been doing that?"

"Couple days. It's nothing, I'm fine. You got any news for me?" He lied, knowing full well he was anything but fine, the multicolored mess he'd left in the snow confirming that point. It was no longer just greenish-brown, now it had an added tinge of pink.

"The hell you're fine. Do you even know the definition of that word?" He shot back, full on irritated with the young man at the lack of concern he had for himself.

"Bobby, now would not be the time to try giving me an English lesson. You got anything for me or did you just call to shoot the shit?"

"Yeah, I got something for you, but you ain't gonna like it." His voice sounded almost grim, and Dean knew he didn't like it the second he heard it. He definitely didn't need the older man to point that out to him.

"Now why am I not surprised?"

"Cause you never seem to like anything I tell you when you call for info, that's why. Seems that in just about twenty-four hours from now there's gonna be a full solar eclipse. Guess where it's supposed to be centered," Bobby wasn't liking what he was hearing from the other end either. Dean was obviously trying very hard to hide his wheezing now.

"I'm betting it ain't Miami, is it? I just can't get lucky like that."

"You'd be betting right. I'm not trying to scare you or anything, but I sure hope that doesn't mean what I'm thinking it may mean. If I get on the road now, I can be there in half a day." If Dean didn't know better, he'd swear he heard the jangling of keys as the man was already prepared to walk out the door.

"I appreciate it Bobby, but I don't even know where the hell to look yet. I'm just following this trail and hoping it leads me to wherever I need to be," Dean's tone went blank and Bobby could tell he was hiding something else too, not just his own health problems.

"What trail, and don't lie to me. What trail are you following?"

Dean made the mistake of taking in a deep breath before he tried to answer, this fit not lasting nearly as long as the first one, but it was just as productive and just as painful. It was getting to the point that he couldn't even touch his own chest without it hurting anymore, and truth be told, he'd love nothing more then the seasoned hunters help. When the bout had finally passed, Dean started telling Bobby everything slowly, not wanting to start another. He told him about the bogus text he'd been sent that had Bobby's name on it, the now obvious sabotage of his beloved black beauties' tires that caused the blowout, the she-devil woman that shot him full of something and apparently threw him into his car to sleep it off while she took off to god knows where dragging Sam behind, the blood trail his only lead to his little brother's whereabouts.

"Well, at least she left you IN the car instead of under it. How much blood are we talking about here anyway Dean? If what you're telling me is right, sounds like Sam should have bled out a long time ago." Leave it to Bobby to be the morbid voice of reason.

"It's just trickles here and there, I honestly haven't made it very far yet," again with that blank tone, the one that made his hairs stand on end.

"No bullshit, how far have you made it Dean?" He asked, not really sure he wanted to hear the answer.

"About a mile, maybe a little less."

That was all the older man needed to hear. He did actually have his keys in his hand, and now he was walking out the door. It had been hours since he'd talked to Dean the first time, and for him to only have gone a mile in that amount of time was not a good sign. "Dean, you continue following that trail and call me if you find anything. I am on my way. Don't do anything stupid until I get there. If I'm right, Sam's alive and breathing, at least 'till tomorrow."

"But Bobby…"

"NO BUTS BOY! I'm on my way!" He said nothing else, just slammed the phone shut and started the long drive, knowing full well Dean would do more stupid things then he could count before he got there and hoping none of them would get him killed.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The unease Bobby felt in his stomach caused him to drive increasingly faster and the faster he drove the more his unease grew, the vicious circle going round and round in his head making him push his battered, old pickup truck to well beyond the posted seventy-five mile per hour speed limit. The thoughts in his head ran by as fast as the scenery outside, never lingering long enough to focus on just one, but each and every one of them twisting that ever increasing unease into one big knot that was threatening to suffocate him if he couldn't find a way to untie it soon.

He wasn't usually a worrying man, except when it came to the Winchester boys. No, he reserved all his worry for them. He'd made it his personal mission to look out for the two of them since their father had given himself in trade for his eldest son, Bobby being the only one that knew which brother had truly been John's favorite, if he indeed did have one. Truth be told, Bobby Singer was the only remaining 'true' friend John Winchester had left, that simple fact being the reason he was heading west at an alarming rate of speed, trying to intervene before what he thought was about to happen actually happened, his head filled with nothing but worry.

It wasn't Sam he was worried about, not so much. If he was right in his suspicions, Sam was just fine for the time being, and they still had plenty of time to find him. His concern at this very moment was for Dean, as he foraged through the freezing cold and the ridiculous amount of snow he knew from weather reports had been dumped on western Montana in the last few days. He knew the second Dean figured out that Sam was missing and had recklessly decided to go after him, he'd done it with no plan, no provisions, and no regard for his own well-being. He could see the kid trudging through knee deep powder in nothing but his boots and that damn leather jacket he always wore, carrying nothing but his favorite gun and knife. It was probably why he was hacking like a thirty-year chain smoker in the thralls of stage four lung cancer. He had a one track mind when it came to Sam, the one and only track the one that John had drilled into him since he was four years old.

That was the wrong thing to let cross his mind, knowing the coughing he'd heard and the wheezing he tried like hell, but failed miserably to hide was just the tip of the iceberg. Yeah, he knew Dean pretty well and he knew no matter how sick or injured he was, he'd stop at nothing to find Sam. He just wondered what kind of condition he'd be in when and if he did, and if he'd even be able to do anything about it when the time came.

Bobby shivered at that thought now and quickly forced his mind to change subjects. He thought about the eclipse that was coming, the memories of the last time he'd seen a full on solar one coming back to him in full Technicolor and making themselves very well known to his troubled mind . He'd never forget that day, almost ten years before, when he and John had done what they did, and couldn't now help but think that they hadn't done it well enough. They had been thorough, but he always knew there was a slim chance, as long as the two of them were alive, that what had been done could be undone, if the conditions were just right. He couldn't help but think in some way it was coming back to haunt him now after all these years like he always knew in some strange way it could. He honestly thought that the threat was over when John had died and the boys had cremated his remains, but apparently he had been wrong, apparantly he'd missed something. It had taken just about everything both men had had in them to banish that evil the first time, and Bobby seriously doubted the fact that if it got out, he'd be able to do it again. All he could do right now was hope and pray that he was wrong about everything he thought and drive.

It had been hours since he'd last talked to Dean, every call he'd made to him going either unanswered or directly to voicemail. Directly to voicemail he could understand, the area probably nothing but a big, fat dead zone for reception, but the calls that did make it through that went unanswered helped unnerve him even more then he already was, if that was even possible. Nearly three hours without so much as a word sent him into yet another worry frenzy and he now resorted to calling every ten minutes, just hanging up on Dean's damn methodic sounding outgoing drone, never once leaving a message.

He picked up his phone off the seat next to him and hit the redial for the umpteenth time, waiting not so patiently for the connection to complete and mumbling to himself when it did.

"Answer, damn it."

One ring.

"Damn it Dean, answer."

Two rings.

"God damn it Dean, answer."

Three rings.

"ANSWER YOUR GOD DAMN PHONE DEAN!"

"Bobby…" It was said in nothing more then a whisper, but at least it was an answer, and it scared the hell out of the man listening.

"Dean, what the hell is going on? I've been calling you for hours, why haven't you answered your damn phone?" He got no verbal answer, just the wretched sound of Dean's other lung coming up his throat as he pressed a little harder on the gas, making the truck going just a little bit faster.

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He breathed a sigh of relief when Bobby told him he was coming and seriously considered turning around and heading back to the car to wait for him to arrive. He wasn't completely versed on the details, but knew enough from what he'd read in his father's journal regarding the eclipse to have a pretty good idea what the older hunter was thinking. If Bobby was right, Sam would be safe, at least for now. _'But what if Bobby's wrong,' _he couldn't help but think as he stared at the blood trail before him. No, he had to keep going, in case Bobby was wrong and the eclipse was a mere coincidence.

It was reaching late morning now and with the harsh light from the sun shining bright from a cloudless sky and reflecting off the thick layer of snow blanketing the ground, Dean was practically blind. _'Shoulda brought my damn sunglasses," _he chastised himself, every step he took an almost random one. He could still make out the blood trail though, and that was all that mattered. He'd tried picking up his pace, the effort relatively unsuccessful as an icy chill ran through his body, slowing him down to a near crawl at some points, the sweat on his back making his shirt stick to his clammy skin while shivers ran up him from head to toe and back, the pain in his chest nearing the excruciating point at times now. He was downing Tylenol like they were Pez from a dispenser, his bottle of water long since gone and leaving him to swallow them with handfuls of snow instead. _'At least I won't dehydrate," _he smirked to himself, grateful that at least his thoughts were still coherent.

He figured he was about two and a half miles from the car now, and after nearly five hours of walking was seriously thinking he'd made the wrong decision to keep going. His legs were soaked to the knees and numb, their movement being fueled by sheer willpower alone. He'd been in a clearing for the last two hours and almost cried when he finally saw trees before him, of which a few of them looking to be quite dead. This time when he tried picking up his pace, he actually did, his movements slightly more limber as some adrenaline started to flow. He cut the distance between himself and his destination in almost no time, once finally there he immediately went to work.

Dropping to his knees, he started scooping up snow and packing it into a nice, neat ball. He'd add to it and add to it until he had a nice boulder size going, and once it was but enough, he started rolling it in every direction, gathering as much of the snow cover as he could until he'd had a nice little hole dug for himself. With a small circle of ground exposed, he gathered up the deadest, driest pieces of wood he could find and made a nice sized pile before digging through his pockets for his emergency stash of lighter fluid, the pocket it shared with the nice, shiny new Zippo he'd 'purchased' not too long ago. He doused the kindling and small logs with what he had in the little yellow bottle and waited for it to soak in, his sudden lack of movement as he just stood and stared reminding him of just how cold he really was. _'Hmm, freezing cold and still sweating like a pig. That's probably not good.' _He just let out a grunt as another thought crossed his mind, none of which were very positive or very comforting.

"Here goes nothing," he did actually say out loud as he flipped open the lighter with one hand, the other hand numb and buried in his pocket for safe keeping at the moment. He bent down and held the flame to the lower, smaller pieces first and patiently waited for the flames to catch and take hold. Slowly they crept over the pile, each piece smoldering and igniting one by one, the heat being generated increasing as the fire got larger and larger, Dean adding more to it the bigger it got.

He knelt as close as he possibly could to it without actually sitting on it, the occasional crackle sending small pieces of glowing embers popping out in his direction, every now and then landing on his knee but going mostly unnoticed until they'd already burned their way through the denim to the flesh underneath. Dean really didn't care though, he was warming up, if only a little. First his hands, then his arms. His legs, well, he thought they were pretty much a lost cause by now, and his feet, forget those. Those were soaked through and nothing was warming them up anytime soon, not until he got dry clothes on. Staring at the now roaring, crackling fire, it was starting to mesmerize him, exhaustion now starting to wash over his body as he sat enjoying the heat.

The next thing he knew, his phone was vibrating against his cheek as it lay plastered against the ground, his skin warm to the touch and covered in sweat. He sat up and reached for the cell, the metal and plastic freezing his now warm hands. He shook his head and realized he'd fallen asleep, and was grateful to whoever it was that had called for waking him up. He was pretty sure, with how tired he was, that he would have slept through into morning, and probably would have frozen to death when the fire had burnt out. He didn't need to look at the caller id before he answered, he just made the mistake of drawing in a deep breath before he did.

"Bobby," he heard himself say in a hushed tone before he felt the urge, the frantic voice on the other end damn near screaming at him as the painful hacking started again, each cough making his chest burn and his ribs ache. If it hadn't been for the fact that Sam was in trouble, he probably would have pulled his gun out and put himself out of his own misery.

It took the longest time yet for him to regain control of himself, the scattered areas of phlegm marring the pure white snow slightly disturbing in not only their size but color. _'Yeah, maybe this is a little more then a cold,' _he let another joyous thought in to roll around in his head for a while as he tried like hell to catch his breath, hearing Bobby's own heavy breathing coming from the other end as he just waited. After a long silence, someone finally spoke, the tone much more calmed then it had been before, the panic totally hidden inside.

"Dean, why haven't you answered your phone?" He asked as composed as he could, which wasn't very easy at the moment considering what he'd just heard.

"Didn't hear it, somehow it's on vibrate. Sorry," he answered, sounding somewhat out of sorts.

"Are you alright?" _'Stupid question Singer, of course he's not alright. He sounds like he has freakin' pneumonia.'_

"Yeah, I'm good. Just took a minute to rest, built a little fire to warm up, sure wish I had some Grog, that would hit the spot," he tried to make light of the situation, but Bobby was having none of it.

"You aren't supposed to drink booze with a fever boy, you know that," he opened the door and hoped Dean would be dumb enough to step through it, and he slightly smiled internally when he did.

"How'd you kno…" '_Yep, stepped right into that trap, didn't I?' _He chastised himself again, unable to take it back and just rolling with it instead. "At least I won't get hypothermia. It's not so bad out here anyway, I'm starting to like it."

"I take it that means you haven't found anything yet, and you're still aimlessly dragging ass through the snow, right?" Dean just shook his head as if Bobby could see it. He didn't need to see it though, he already knew. "Dean, you need to find some kind of shelter. You can't be out in the cold like that much longer. I bet you have…"

Dean cut him off, trying to figure out how he never noticed the large house just off in the distance with a small barn right behind it, smoke billowing from the chimney and indicating there was someone home. "Bobby, you're not going to believe this. Maybe today is my lucky day after all," he told him as he started walking.

"If today was your lucky day, Sam wouldn't be missing, now would he?"

"Sam went missing yesterday Bobby, not today," he mused, the huff and grunt from the other end oozing displeasure at the feeble attempt at a joke. The more Dean joked, the worse it was, the older man knew that about Dean from plenty of experience. "There's a house not too far away. I'm gonna go check it out. I'll call you right back."

"Dean, be careful! Do not go in there all Rambo. Just wait for me to get there, please!" _'That call had better of been dropped, because if that dumb son-of-a-bitch just hung up on me, I'll kill him!' _He thought it, and instantly regretted it as a sick feeling suddenly washed over him. He also knew Dean well enough to know what 'checking it out' meant. He redialed the phone repeatedly, getting voicemail each and every time, never once hearing a ring. He tried pressing the pedal harder, but it was as far down as it would go, but for Bobby, it just wasn't fast enough.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

With nothing else meaningful to say to Sam, at least for the time being, Ilsa left, dragging Isabel behind her, leaving him alone, completely alone, save for the few times one of them, he couldn't tell which, had come in to add wood to the still raging fire and keeping the house hotter then Arizona in July. Every comment he'd make or question he'd ask was readily acknowledged with an evil smirk or sly grin, but went totally ignored otherwise. He could hear them talking in the other room every now and again, but even straining hard he couldn't make out anything they were saying, save for the occasional 'Sam' or 'Dean', and that was even more disturbing, almost to the point of being maddening.

They'd left him alone for so long now he was beginning to wonder if they were even still there, since he hadn't heard a sound from either one of them in quite some time. That left him with nothing but his own thoughts to occupy his time with, which was never a good thing. Given too much time with no distractions, Sam's thoughts tended to take on a life of their own, especially when the thoughts were ruled by the fact that he had no idea where his brother was or what had happened to him. They knew, both of them, but obviously they weren't telling him, and that left way too much to his rather vivid imagination.

After what seemed like hours of stewing and brooding in nothing but silence, the current vision he had of his brother going dancing in his head being one of him laying facedown and frozen in the snow somewhere as his mindless search for him ended in vain with coyotes chewing at his arms and legs was quickly replaced by the loud voice of one of the women announcing her departure and passing on orders to the other.

"I'll be back in an hour. Keep that fire going, and DO NOT talk to him, not one word. Do you understand?" Her voice was firm, and Sam sensed something in her words he hoped he could use to his advantage.

"Yes Ilsa, I understand," she responded in such an annoyed tone he could almost see her eyes roll right along with it.

"Good. One hour. Behave yourself until then," she'd said, and Sam wanted to chuckle himself when he envisioned Isabel flipping the bird to her overly bossy sister as she stuck out her tongue like a spoiled brat. Yeah, he'd wanted to chuckle, if this situation were even remotely funny at the moment.

He heard a door slam, knew the two of them were alone, and watched her storm into the room, her body wired tight with irritation as she angrily grabbed for the poker next to the hearth and took her frustration out on the logs, beating them in a somewhat frenzied state before throwing a few more inside to add to the blaze. Sam knew the feeling she had, he knew it all too well. He still got it, not very often, but every once in a while still when Dean would tell him what to do or how to do it, making him feel like he was six again and couldn't do anything right. Some things just never changed, and he could clearly see he wasn't the only one that got that feeling.

"Let me guess, older sister, right?" He asked her in the most understanding tone of voice possible, that voice Sam usually used on family members of victims to get them talking about things they usually didn't want to share with strangers, things that may make them look or sound totally insane. "I know exactly how you feel, my brother's like that sometimes too."

She said nothing, just stood there with her back to Sam and her face to the fire as she continued to stoke it, the flames dancing across the wood logs as the temperature rose just a little more in the room. She did her best to make it seem like she was ignoring him, but he could tell by the way she cocked her head when he spoke that she was listening.

"I bet she's always telling you what to do, how to do it, and when to do it too, right? She never lets you think for yourself sometimes, does she?"

Still no response, but she was most definitely paying attention to what he was saying, Sam's words making her curl her hand even tighter around the poker as they fueled her anger, and if he could have seen it, he'd bet her knuckles were turning white by now.

"Older sisters, older brothers, they're no different. Always thinking they know everything, always pushing us around. It's almost like they're trying to be our parents."

He couldn't help but think of Dean when he'd said that, because Dean really had been like a parent to him, in a way, more of a parent then John had been. Dean had been the one that took care of him every time their father was off hunting this, that and the other thing; read stories to him when he was scared or couldn't sleep; tucked him in at night and told him everything would be alright when their dad hadn't been back for days at a time; and protected him from the bogeyman until he learned how to fight him himself, just to name a few. All that and more made him want to know where his brother was now, and damn it if he wasn't going to find out.

"What gives her the right to boss you around, anyway? You are twins, right? How much older can she be?" Sam stated the obvious and that final question was the one that got a response from the agitated woman, and he almost wished he hadn't when the response actually came.

"She's a lot older then me then you think Sam," she almost growled in anger as she threw the poker down and turned to face him, her eyes no longer their deep shade of blue as they burned directly in front of him. The eyes that stared back at him now were coal black, and they made him cringe, his own eyes going wide as he stared at her face.

"Come on Sam, don't look so surprised. Did you think we were a couple of love starved Winchester groupies that wanted the two of you for your handsomely good looks or charming personalities? Get real!" She laughed at that, enjoying the look of horror that had spread across Sam's face when he looked at her.

"Then what do you want us for?" He spit out when the initial shock finally wore off, Sam asking the questions he needed answered, he just didn't know anymore if the answers would be honest ones. He did know he had to keep her talking, especially since their situation had just gone from bad to worse in the preverbal blink of an eye.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you that, but you'll find out soon enough. Don't worry, if everything goes as planned, we have no intentions of harming one hair on your pretty, little head," she smiled at him now, unable to control her tongue anymore, Ilsa's order of silence going straight up the chimney with the rest of the smoke.

"What about Dean? Where is he? What have you done with my brother?" He tried keeping his voice calm, but it wasn't easy anymore. They had no plans of harming **him**, but she said nothing about his brother.

"We already told you Sam, we haven't done anything to Dean, not yet, anyway," she so gently reminded him of what they'd already told him earlier. Honestly, they hadn't done anything to Dean yet.

He felt the sick feeling he'd been fighting with for hours now start to creep it's way up from his stomach to his throat as he remembered what else he'd been told. Dean was coming, they wanted him to, they were counting on it, and somehow he now knew what they were using him for.

"Oh god, you want Dean, and you're using me as bait to draw him here," he said as the realization hit him like a fist to the gut. _'But why?'_

"Good job Sam! And to think Ilsa said Dean was the smart one. I guess she was wrong…again."

"If you want Dean so bad, why didn't you just take him, why take me?"

"Because he needs to come to us of his own free will, all on his own. Nobody is forcing him to come after you, he's doing that because he wants to." The matter-of-fact tone she used just added to Sam's worry.

"What are you going to do to him when he gets here?" Sam questioned, unable to hide the fear in his voice anymore now that he knew who their intended target really was.

"We're not going to do anything to him, not really. But we're not going to stop him from doing anything to himself. If Ilsa's right, he'll do anything for you, and I do mean anything."

Sam was not only scared, but now he was confused as well. What the hell did she mean by that? What would make her think Dean would do something to himself? And what, exactly, was it they wanted Dean **to** do to himself? None of this was making any sense, and the more she told him, the more he felt like a dog chasing it's own tail and never being able to catch it.

"Don't worry Sam, you'll find everything out soon enough, as soon as they both get here."

'_Both, what the hell does that mean?'_ He wanted to ask, but she knew she'd already said way too much and had no intentions of saying anymore as she left the room, leaving him dumbfounded.

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Bobby drove and prayed. Prayed he wouldn't run into any cops laying speed traps that would probably get him locked up and the keys thrown away for how fast he was currently driving. He prayed Dean wouldn't do anything stupid when he got to that house he was sure had something other then Sam and very unpleasant waiting for him inside. He prayed that Sam would somehow figure out a way to escape wherever he may be, because he was pretty damn sure Dean was going to need all the help he could get. And finally, he prayed Dean wasn't as sick as Bobby feared he might be.

He remembered the last time Dean had been that sick. It had been nearly ten years ago, on that very same day as the eclipse. He'd heard that same cough Dean tried so hard to hide as they'd made their plans; it occasionally sneaking out whenever John wasn't around or had his head stuck too far into a book to hear anything around him. Somehow, Dean had been able to control it enough that John never heard it, until it was almost too late. He'd kept the fever he'd had for days by then hidden too. To this day, Bobby still couldn't figure out how the hell Dean had stayed on his feet as long as he had, but figuring it was probably because he just didn't want to let down or piss off John.

What he'd had and what they'd done had put him in the hospital for nearly two weeks after, leaving Dean with no recollection of what had happened; John deciding that was probably for the best and Bobby agreeing. John had only made vague notes in his journal about that day, leaving out most of the details to make it sound more like step by step instructions to some ritual then actual events, then never spoke of that day again. He'd made Bobby promise he'd never speak of it either, making it sounding like a good idea at the time. Now, he wasn't so sure that had been the right thing to do. At least if Dean knew what happened that day, he'd know what he may be walking into right now if this was really what Bobby thought it was, and maybe it would keep him from walking into it at all, at least until he could help him. _'Ignorance isn't always bliss, I guess.' _He thought as he continued to drive.

Bobby nervously chewed all the nails on his right hand down to the quick and was getting ready to start on the left, he and Dean having obviously differing opinions of what _'call you right back' _meant now that he hadn't heard from him in over three hours. He'd debated back and forth with himself in that time whether or not he should tell Dean everything that had happened back then in the hopes of him being able to prepare himself, knowing full well the kid wouldn't wait for help if he had even the slightest idea Sam was anywhere near that house, but until he could actually get him on the phone to warn him, he'd just have to hope, and pray, that he could get to him at all.

"_Too many damn coincidences to be coincidence,' _he thought as he made another attempt at calling Dean, the last thing he'd heard from him was that he was checking out that house before he'd just hung up. He'd heard nothing since then, absolutely nothing. The only thing that made him feel any better was the fact that every time he called, he went straight to voicemail just like the last time, indicating that he just wasn't connecting at all. _'Nothing I can do about no signal' _he told himself, if anything to make himself feel better. It was after three in the afternoon, and he still had at least another three hours of driving to go. He really wished he could shake the feeling that it was going to be three hours too late. His latest attempt at reaching Dean this time actually rang, over and over, until the call was finally answered, not by voicemail, but not by Dean either.

"Hello…" the woman's voice sounded tentative, like she shouldn't be answering this call at all.

"Who is this, and where the hell is Dean?" Bobby couldn't help but bark into the mouthpiece, almost desperate to know what the hell was going on by now.

"Is this Bobby?" She asked, a little more confidence in her voice, almost to the point of arrogance. "Dean, he's…well…let's say 'indisposed' and can't come to the phone right now. Would you care to leave a message?"

Bobby almost lost control of the truck when he'd heard that, the sounds from the background giving him a pretty good idea of what 'indisposed' meant, and he knew his prayers of Dean not doing something stupid had gone totally unanswered, right along with everything else he'd prayed for.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

The thick smoke billowing from the chimney was the only thing marring the beautiful blue of the afternoon sky as it blanketed the heavens, leaving the sun to beat down brightly against the pure white snow covering the ground below. Under different circumstances, Dean would have thought it was an exceptionally magnificent day. The smoke cloud hovering above the house conjured up images of a hot, cozy fire roaring away in a large fireplace tucked inside some quaint little room, the heat it would be generating warming him straight to the bone. The thought of a scalding hot shower followed by the biggest, hottest cup of strong, black coffee as he lay curled up in a soft blanket directly in front of the blaze drove the thought of Sam from his mind momentarily, but only momentarily when the vision of Sam being subjected to untold horrors in that very same house replaced the coziness he'd imagined earlier and the idea of resting until he could breathe freely again, which right now felt like never.

The house itself wasn't far off in the distance, but to Dean it may as well have been miles. Every step he took was becoming slower and more difficult, the frigid temperature of the air burning in his throat as he drew in short, quick breaths in the hopes of keeping another coughing spell at bay. He didn't think his stomach, ribs, or back could go through that self-inflicted torture again.

Dean had walked all of about twenty feet away from his own little campfire, it probably not as nice as the one raging inside that house and hopefully keeping his little brother toasty, but it was comfy enough for him, when he'd decided straying from it had probably been a very bad idea. Laying next to it had warmed him up enough to make stop his teeth from chattering, leaving him somewhat comfortable in the short time he'd fallen asleep, bit now that was gone, it's absence just made the brutal cold away from it even harder to tolerate. He hoped it had been his short nap on the hard, frozen ground that made every muscle and joint in his body ache, but somehow he doubted it. He also doubted the constant sweat pouring from his body was caused by the heat from the fire. No, he was pretty sure he was one step closer to what he now had a pretty good idea was coming, but until he found Sam and he was safe, crawling into a scratchy, lumpy motel bed and sleeping for a week would just have to wait.

He'd worked hard at cutting the distance between himself and the house, but the closer he got, the slower he went; not only because he was getting so stiff he could barely move, but because he wasn't ready to get himself into something he couldn't get himself out of without Sam or Bobby's help. He'd made it close enough now that he could have easily been seen from any one of the windows, should anyone care to pull back a curtain and look, giving him good reason to drop to his hands and knees and crawl through snow almost up to his shoulders and chin and using it as some kind of cover. He dragged himself along on all fours for the longest time until he'd finally made it to the small barn about half a football field away from the house.

He made an effort to stand when he reached the old, somewhat rickety wooden structure that stood between himself and the house, the snow he'd just burrowed through like a mole melting quickly against his overly warm body and soaking just about every piece of clothing he wore. He noticed the barn had definitely seen better days, the wood weather-beaten and somewhat rotted in places as he pulled his gun from his pants now that his hands were free, albeit a little numb now, and tried peeking through one of the windows to get a look inside. The glass had a thick layer of frost coating it from pane to pane, making it impossible to see the interior of the building, making him a little nervous. He cautiously worked his way down the side of the wall and past the door, it clearly displaying the name 'The Moore's above it, continuing to the corner and turning it, his boot sticking under something big, hard, and heavy. His body didn't stop with his foot, the fall sending him face first into the snow, the trip so sudden he never got his hands in front of him to stop it. Luckily for him, the snow was deep and soft, it cushioning the blow and leaving him relatively unscratched.

"Son-of-a-bitch," he cursed, brushing the snow from his face and chest as he slowly lifted himself up, his knees still resting atop whatever had caused the tumble in the first place. He turned his body slightly to the right and scooped the snow away to reveal the stumbling hazard, the shock of the wide, dead eyes staring back at him and the deep gash from ear to ear in his throat underneath causing him to suck in a deep breath, and that's all it took.

The burning in his chest reached a new level of agony when the cold air hit and the spasms started, the pain in his back and ribs from the uncontrollable hacking nearly as painful as the feeling of his lungs being torn to shreds inside him. He'd long since given up covering his mouth like his mother had always taught him to when he was a child, each rumble deep inside producing more and more to be spit out into the snow. His denial that there was anything really wrong with him, and his refusal to let himself cough up the increasing fluid helped fill his lungs at an alarming rate. Now that his body had taken control, it wasn't stopping until it was satisfied it was done and he was just going to have to go along for the ride. Dean could barely keep himself upright anymore as was about to just curl up on the ground next to what he assumed was probably the late Mr. Moore and die when he felt a strong arm wrap around his midsection and drag him to his feet, his coughing not once dissipating as the person the arm belonged to started dragging him inside the barn.

Realization hit him quickly and it took all he had in him to fight when he saw the long, blonde hair his face was buried in as she bent over him and tried guiding him inside, his resistance felt by her the second it started. She spoke to him sharply, not wanting to waste anymore time outside then necessary.

"Stop fighting me and get your ass inside! I'm not going to hurt you, damn it," she yelled at him loudly, her tone somehow helping him garner some control of the lungs that were currently betraying him. When he looked up and into her face, he didn't see what he'd expected he would. The blue eyes looking back and pleading with him to move were soft and sincere, not steely and menacing like he'd expected them to be and he fully let her take the lead until they were in the musty shelter, the sound of the door slamming shut enough to drop Dean to his knees onto the dirt covered floor as he curled himself into a tight ball with his arms crossed over his chest and waited patiently for the last remaining spasms to end. The spell had utterly exhausted him this time, and it took a lot longer for him to catch his breath enough to speak then all the previous fits combined.

She'd waited until he'd fallen almost silent, the only sound escaping from him being the harsh, rumbling noises coming from his chest as it rose and fell with each breath he tried taking in, before she wrapped an arm under his shoulders and helped him to sit up, the move making the room start to swirl and spin right before his eyes. He'd steadied himself against her until the feeling had passed, her grip on him almost a comfort.

"If you can get up off the floor, there's a heater over there in the corner" she motioned with her thumb in the proper direction and waited as he shook his head before getting his feet underneath his body and attempting to stand, the dizziness he'd though had passed threatening to drop him right back down onto the floor like a rock. She felt him waver and held him tighter, and he eventually found the strength to put one foot in front of the other as she led him across the small area, lowering him down onto a small cot next to an even smaller Franklin stove, the fire inside it not very big but creating enough warmth to take the chill out of the air.

"Who are you?" He was finally able to spit out without wanting to gag, the words not coming out very steady, but at least they were understandable.

"Illiana Moore, and this is my property. Who, exactly, are you and why are you trespassing here?" Her tone was demanding, the sound of it almost hiding the suspicion behind it.

"Dean…names Dean," he answered her, pausing to catch his breath before continuing, "Looking for my brother. He's lost." Not entirely the truth, but until he knew who he was talking to, it was close enough.

"He's lost? How'd he get lost out here?" She eyed him with a little more suspicion, and if it had substance, he could have touched it.

"Don't know. Woke up in the car with a flat tire and he was gone." Dean wasn't really in the mood to try explaining to the woman that his brother was probably somewhere on her property right along with him, and he still wasn't even sure she didn't already know that. He also didn't like the fact that she was as calm as she was with a very dead body right outside. He needed to get to the bottom of that too, before the next one laying outside dead in the snow was Sam. "Who's the stiff?"

Her eyes dropped to the floor at the question as she sat in silence for a long moment, tears starting to well in her eyes as she obviously replayed some horrible memories in her head. She swiped at them hard with the back of her hand, forcing them back where they came from and when she felt she had control of her own voice, she answered him. "He's my husband, was my husband. Doug Moore."

"What happened?" He was finding it easier to breath as his body adjusted to the warm air he was taking in now, making communication a whole lot easier.

"He had an accident."

"Lady, getting a paper cut while reading Playboy is an accident. Getting your throat cut like that isn't. Now, are you gonna tell me what's up or do I have to go storming into that house to see for myself. There's a reason why you're hiding out back here with a dead body outside your door, and I'd really like to hear it."

"NO! DON'T GO INTO THE HOUSE! SHE'LL KILL YOU!" She almost shrieked, her voice no longer filled with suspicion and demands but full on fear instead. Dean was taken aback at her response and having a pretty good idea Sam was in that house right now took his own turn at being demanding.

"You better start spilling what the hell is going on here because I think my brother is in that house, and I am not letting him end up with an extra mouth to smile in family photos with like your significant other out there. Who did that and why?"

"Our daughter did that. Killed her own father… and I don't know why. God, I wish I did."

Dean could see the resemblance now, the blue of the eyes, the blonde hair cascading down her shoulders to her breasts, the creamy white of her nearly flawless skin. From what he'd remembered of that bitch that put his lights out, she looked just like her, just a little bit older, but not much. He was even surprised that she could even have a daughter that old, she didn't look that old enough herself.

"Yeah, I think I've met her. She looks just like you, right, only bitchier?" He scowled for a second, then just kept asking question he hoped she did have the answers to. "Is my brother in that house? Have they killed him too?"

"If you're brother's tall, skinny, and has messy, brown hair, then yeah, he's in there. I don't know what he's needed for, but he's being well taken care of, for now anyway."

Dean breathed a small sigh of relief when he heard her say Sam was still alive, the information all but confirming Bobby's suspicions. He fought to remember what he'd read in his father's journal about the eclipse and what it meant, but it just wouldn't come to him, the knowledge that Sam was alright for now and would be until for a while just about taking all the wind out of his sails. He was cold and wet, sick and feverish, and right now knew he needed to get some rest before he made any attempt at going after Sam. More importantly though, he needed to wait for Bobby.

"You're sure my brother's ok?"

"For now, he's fine. You, on the other hand, obviously are not. How long have you had that fever and cough?" She asked, listening to him breathe through the stethoscope she'd gotten somehow, and had he been paying attention, he'd probably have noticed from where.

"Three days, maybe four. Why?"

"So, you thought it would be a good idea to go wandering through the cold and snow looking for your brother with pneumonia?"

"No, but I had to find him. He's all I've got." _'Great, pneumonia. Just what I wanted to hear.' _He'd thought it, but didn't want to believe it.

"Well, you're no good to him dead, are you?" She'd said to him rather sternly, grabbing him by the arm and stripping him of his jacket. "You need to get out of these wet clothes."

Dean was almost embarrassed when she started removing one wet garment after another, but was almost too tired to care. He'd shivered at the thought that had they been in another place and time, like maybe a bar with a few drinks in him already, he'd try to take both her and her daughter home, and probably at the same time. He shook the thought from his mind as she continued stripping him all the way down to his boxers and spread each item she'd taken from him as close to the heat of the stove as she could, hoping it would dry out by morning. His eyes were barely open now, and sitting up was becoming increasingly difficult. She could see how unsteady he was and decided to lay him down onto the cot before he fell down, his skin warn and wet to the touch, his wheezing becoming more pronounced with each breath he tried to take.

"God, you are hot," she said to him as a frown spread across her face.

"Normally, I'd take that as a compliment, but somehow I don't think that's how you meant it." he laughed slightly, using the humor he always relied on to make her laugh a little too. "You a doctor? How do you know I have pneumonia?"

"I'm a vet, but I can still tell pneumonia when I hear it, and considering how you decorated the snow out there, I'm pretty sure you've got it. How are you planning on helping your brother in this condition, if you don't mind me asking."

"Helps coming. Our friend Bobby is on his way," he told her, barely awake anymore and not really sure he should be telling her that, but he really couldn't help himself.

"Dean, I may be able to help you a little. Wait here, I'll be right back," she pulled up a thick sleeping bag to cover him, tucking it under his chin now that he'd started shivering. She hoped she was right, because the longer he laid there, the harder it was getting for him to breathe, and she could see and hear it.

"Wher'm I gonna go," he questioned in nothing more then a whisper.

He could hear her rattling around a few feet away, but couldn't really open his eyes to look around to find her or see what she was doing. Numerous labored breaths later, he heard her come back and sit down next to him. The nice, warm cover she'd put over him was suddenly gone, replaced by something equally as warm, but this time wet.

"This should help you clear some of that shit out of your lungs and make it a little easier to breathe," she told him as he felt her smear the rather odd smelling concoction across his chest from arm to arm, the heat it produced increasing as she worked it in, massaging in a circular motion until it was all totally absorbed. The scent was so familiar, but he just couldn't pinpoint it and decided to let it go. It wasn't really worth trying to figure out right now anyway.

He felt it hit him almost immediately, the need to cough up both lungs nearly unstoppable. "What the hell was that?" He croaked out as he rolled over and fell from the cot to the floor, all the muscles in his body trembling as the latest fit threatened to begin. "Oh god, what did you do to me?"

He was on his knees and sitting on his feet, hunched over with his hands flat against the ground and his head hung low while his fingers tried digging into the unyielding dirt floor. She stood right behind him and listened to him fight what was happening as she coated his now exposed back with the substance, rubbing it in until it was all gone again. He felt the burn from front to back meet in the center and fill his lungs, the need to hack finally winning out.

"Old herbal remedy. Don't fight it Dean, just let it happen. You'll feel a lot better when it's over, I promise," she calmly told him as she tried massaging his shoulders to help him relax, knowing what he was about to go through would be long and unpleasant. She'd heard the phone in Dean's pocket start to wail as the bout neared it's peak, and she scrambled to find it and answer it.

"Hello," she semi-whispered, the sounds of Dean's unrelenting fit almost drowning out her soft voice as she spoke.

"Who is this, and where the hell is Dean?" The voice on the other end was gruff and filled with agitation when it came out at an almost holler.

"Is this Bobby?" She barked right back, trying to be as rude as he was. "Dean, he's…well…let's say 'indisposed' and can't come to the phone right now. Would you care to leave a message?"

The pause had been long and silent, but an answer did finally come, it's bark more harsh then it was the first time. "No, I wouldn't care to leave a message, I'd care to talk to Dean. Put him on the phone!" His voice had been so loud she had to pull the phone away from her ear to protect the drum from rupturing as the tone had elevated itself to a near shriek now.

"Please stop yelling at me and calm down before I hang up on you!" She started screaming right back, shoving the phone right next to Dean's head as she distinctly heard the man yelling again, then suddenly going quiet. She could only hope that meant he was finally going to listen. "Still want me to put Dean on the phone? I think the conversation will be a little one sided at the moment."

"Dear Lord, is that really Dean?" The voice that had been making her hairs stand on end at it's ferocity had now gone meek, the worry he'd been trying to hide with the anger now clearly evident.

"Yes, it is," she answered him coolly as she watched Dean's body finally start to calm, the rumble in his chest and the wheezing in his breath almost inaudible anymore. "Hold on a minute, I think it's almost over."

She placed the phone down gently on the floor, freeing both hands to help Dean back up and onto the cot, his breathing clearly coming easier to him, but sweating all over as every muscle in his weak frame shook from either fever or strain. He let out a few rogue coughs before going silent, barely awake anymore but wanting to talk to Bobby when he realized he was on the phone. She covered him up the chin again before picking his cell back up, placing it next to his ear for him now that he and no energy left to even hold it.

"Dean, it's your friend Bobby," she nudged him as she pressed the phone harder against his ear to let him know it was there.

"Bobby, that you?" He squeaked out, his voice barely recognizable.

"Yeah kid, it's me. Dean, are you ok? That sounds real bad." If Bobby had been worried before, he was nearly sick to his stomach now. '_This is not happening again, it can't."_

"Nah, I'm great, can't you tell?" Dean took in a deep breath before continuing, and this time it actually felt good. "Where are you Bobby, you almost here?"

"Few more hours. Can you hang on 'till then?" '_Please be alright until then.'_

"Do I have a choice? Hurry up man, will ya? I need you here." He felt like he was almost begging, but it was Bobby, so who'd care.

"What you need is some rest. Get some sleep and I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Then we'll…get…Sam?" He slurred the last word and followed it with a quiet snore, the much needed sleep he'd been dodging finally winning him over.

"Hello, are you still there?" Illiana was back on the phone again, not quite done with Bobby yet.

"Yeah, I'm here," another long pause before he continued, and she could almost see him digesting that whole conversation in one big bite. "How bad is he?"

"He needs to be in a hospital. If he'd seen a doctor days ago when it started he probably would have been ok, but I think he'd let it go too long now."

"Can you get him to one?" It was Bobby who was now almost begging, but he already suspected that answer would no. If she could get him to a hospital, she probably already would have, unless…

"I wish I could, but I'm afraid that's impossible. I did give him something to help him breathe a little better, I'm sure he'll be ok until you get here. Just follow the road into Chester until you pass his car. Take the next right, about a half mile up, then go another mile or so until you see a sign that says 'Home of the Moore's.' That's our drive. Turn onto it and follow it all the way back to the house. We'll be waiting for you when you get here."

"I'll be there as soon as I can," he told her before cutting off the call.

She squeezed Dean's cell shut and tossed it down to the ground, sitting next to him once again as she stroked his hair, his sleep quiet and peaceful. She reached into her pocket to pull out her own phone now that she heard a heavier snore coming from his mouth and dialed, waiting patiently for an answer.

"It's Ilsa, what's happening?"

"He's on his way. He said a few hours, so be ready when he arrives."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Bobby wanted more the anything to breathe a sigh of relief after finally hearing from Dean, but he just couldn't bring himself to do so yet. There were still too many things taxing his mind for him to even remotely start to feel better. Days were short in the early months of the year, the sun rising late and setting all too early, and he couldn't help but feel that time was running out as he watched the sun creep closer and closer to the horizon, turning it spectacular shades of orange and red before him while he continued his trek to the west. It would be dark soon though, and that would make finding Sam all the more difficult.

Dean, at least for the time being, seemed to be warm and dry as he probably rested as comfortably as he could considering his current condition, now that he had found shelter and was finally out of the cold, but he'd made no mention of finding any sign of Sam anywhere in or near that house it had taken him hours of hiking through frigid temperatures and mounds of snow to find. That could only mean that Sam wasn't there, and the minute Dean pulled himself out of the sleep his body had forced him into that he'd undoubtedly so desperately needed, he'd try picking up his search right where he'd left off, denying anything was wrong with him and dragging his sick body back out into the night, the night that was fast approaching.

He wasn't sure he'd ever gotten her name, that woman on the phone that had apparently taken it upon herself to care for Dean until he could get to him, and if he had, he'd already forgotten it, but her words repeated themselves in his brain over and over until he wanted to punch himself in the head in the hopes that the impact would shoot them out his ear and far enough away that he couldn't hear them anymore. He knew she was right, Dean needed a lot more then a couple Tylenol and some Nyquil, but he also knew there was no way in hell he'd let the older hunter take him to a hospital, or anywhere else for that matter, until Sam was found alive and breathing. He also had the sinking suspicion he needed to keep Dean as far away from wherever Sam may be as possible, and that left him with only one option he could see; he had to try finding Sam himself. First things first though, he had to get to Dean and hopefully Dean cold shed some light on where to look. If Sam wasn't in that house, he had to be somewhere close, and how many other homes could there possibly be in that area?

He let his mind continue to wander from one thing to another for over an hour, keeping his eyes peeled for any sign of the abandoned Impala now that it was almost completely dark. He had to be close by now, it being damn near four hours since he'd talked to Dean last, and prayed the lack of communication meant the young man was still sleeping. After what Dean had said to him on the phone in a near begging tone earlier, he was pretty sure he'd at least wait for him to get there before he made his next move, but when it came to Dean Winchester, anything was possible, and one could never be too sure. If he felt better after whatever Florence Nightingale had given him and the little bit of sleep he got, there'd be no stopping him; until he dropped, that is.

The black spot out in the distance but approaching fast stood out like a sore thumb against the dirty, white snow piled up on the side of the road, and Bobby felt butterflies start to fly in his stomach when he got close enough to see what it was. He pulled off to the shoulder and stopped where the car sat all alone, right where he had abandoned it that morning and stopped directly behind it, noticing immediately how unevenly it sat on the pavement in front of him. He climbed from the cab and approached the Chevy slowly, checking out the passenger side first and shaking his head with a frown spread across his face as he gathered up the scattered lug nuts from the ground and shoved them in his pocket without ever checking any of the doors to see if they were open. He knew Dean, and knew he would never leave the second most important thing in the world to him injured and unprotected as he left it behind in search of the only other thing more important then it to him. No, he was positive she was all locked up, and he threw the spare and Dean's jack that he'd unconsciously left there into the bed of his truck before climbing back in to finish the last couple miles of his journey.

Her directions had been perfect, the dark back road leading to the house free of accumulated snow and easy to navigate, the sign pointing out the driveway clearly visible in his headlights as he turned and followed the twists and curves, finally ending up at what he assumed was his final destination. The house was dark, not a single ray of light shone from any of the windows and he began to wonder if he was even in the right place, except for the fact that the driveway had stated he was indeed at the home of the Moores.

"This must be the right place," he mumbled to himself as he killed the rumbling engine and quickly walked to the door like a man on a mission.

He rapped his knuckles hard against the wood and was somewhat surprised when the door slowly drifted half open on its own. With a single finger, he cautiously pushed it fully open, standing in the doorway and scanning the mostly dark interior, the amber glow from the burning fire inside the only thing lighting his way. He could feel the heat in the room from the fire against his face as he stood there patiently, not really sure if he should step in or not. He saw no one, heard nothing, and after one more attempt at knocking went unanswered, he decided to walk in.

"Hello, anybody here?" He announced once fully inside the room, closing the door behind him to keep the warmth in the house from escaping.

He studied the room carefully, noticing nothing odd about it, other then the eerie quiet. It was warm and inviting, the cool beiges and warm blues giving it a homey feel. Bobby's eye immediately caught a glimpse of some movement coming from the large lump of blankets spread out over the couch; it was ever so slight, but in the stillness of the room it may as well have been an atom bomb going off. Turning his attention fully onto the long sofa, he noticed the heavy pair of boots resting on the floor next to it and the unmistakable brown leather jacket draped over the back, indicating he'd finally found at least one of the Winchester brothers.

He approached quietly, not really sure if he wanted to wake the young man up or not, and noticed he couldn't even see him as he lay there curled up in a ball and buried under a layer of cover from head to toe, which he couldn't help but think just made it harder for him to breathe then it probably already was. Gently patting the unidentifiable mass in search of a head, he found it resting against the arm and as slowly and carefully as possible, peeled the blanket back to reveal not the short-cropped hair he was expecting, but the long, tousled mop of hair that could only belong to Sam. Grabbing the blanket two-fisted now, he yanked it away forcefully and threw it to the floor, his initial shock at what he saw in front of him leaving him momentarily speechless. There was Sam, bound at the ankles, knees, elbows, and wrists, with duct tape just about covering the entire lower half of his face as he laid there staring right back up at Bobby, wide eyed and nearly panic stricken. His knees had been pulled up to his chest and firmly secured along with his wrists to his ankles, leaving him no wiggle room whatsoever to move as he was left hidden on the couch in the fetal position, just waiting for someone to find him.

"Aw hell Sam, I shoulda known this was a trap," he exclaimed to the younger of the two brothers as he dug his fingers under the tape in a frantic attempt to free Sam's lips, then searched his pockets for a knife to cut him free from his restraints with as he realized all of his suspicions had just become harsh realities in a matter of seconds.

"Bobby, where's Dean?" Sam questioned, the near desperation coming from his voice making Bobby move faster.

"I don't know kid, but right now we have to get out of here, and fast!" He told him urgently as he frantically went to work cutting the ties binding Sam's wrists to his feet, then the binding around his knees, finally enabling him to stretch out to his full length.

"Bobby Singer, so nice to see you again," the menacing voice called from across the room at the same instant the knife went flying, leaving Sam only half unbound. No sooner had the knife found a resting spot atop the fire burning hot in the hearth as it landed silently in the flames, Bobby found himself sailing through the air and into a wall, his body splayed out against to criss-crossing beams directly next to the two that had supported Sam's weight mere minutes before. He was immediately approached by a blonde set of black-eyes twins, each one securely fastening him at the arms and legs to the support beams, leaving him utterly immobile by the time they were done. The instant they were finished strapping Bobby down, they went to work on Sam, who had taken a similar trip across the room right after Bobby had and into the wall, his body quickly reattached to the beams he'd already been hanging from almost a full day now.

She could see Bobby struggle against the restraints as she approached him, much like Sam had initially, but this time Sam didn't even bother to try. She looked the older man up and down through blood red eyes and Bobby knew they were dealing with a lot more then some low level, flunky demon now. She was definitely further up in the hierarchy, and that just made things a whole lot worse.

"Well, look at what we have here. Half of the infamous Winchester brothers, and the one and only Bobby Singer. Damn, we are good, aren't we?" She nearly laughed, bringing herself eye to eye with Bobby as Sam just continued to stare, feeling totally lost, confused, and defeated. "You know, everyone told me not to bother with you three, that this was a lost cause, that you all were too smart to fall into a trap like this, but I know better. You three may be the best of the best at what you do, but when it comes to each other, you go all blind the second one of you is in trouble. Sam, the instant you think your precious brother is sick or injured, all your hunter's instincts go out the window and you're totally ruled by your emotions, which are usually consumed with worry and concern to the point that you can't think straight. And you, Bobby, the seasoned veteran of the group, you should have known better then to come here on the spur of the moment totally unprepared, but the second you talked to Dean and heard just how bad off he was, you dropped everything and raced here at the speed of light to help him, knowing full well what was probably happening and that it couldn't be done without you, but you're concern for John's boys was too extreme to make you take the proper precautions, and look where it's gotten you. Then there's Dean. Poor, obedient, loyal to a fault, self sacrificing Dean; who, with no regard to himself, takes off on what he knows is a wild goose chase, with nothing more to go on then a simple text message from who he thinks is Bobby, because truth be told, he's latched onto you now that John's gone, and he'd do anything for you as well as for Sam. Which brings me right back to you, Sam. Your brother foolishly lets his pathetic little world revolve around you, and unfortunately for him, it will be his undoing. We all know what I mean when I say Dean would do anything for you, don't we? He'd even die for you Sam, or worse, just like your old man did for him. I guess it's true when they say apples don't fall far from the tree, isn't it?"

The more she spoke, the more Bobby recognized her voice. Even with the soft sounds of concern replaced with this current harsh and arrogant tone, he knew the woman he'd spoken to earlier that had so kindly taken care of Dean and the demon standing in front of him gloating and practically breathing fire now were one and the same. He also knew that they didn't just have half the Winchester brothers, they had them both.

"Where's Dean, and what did you do to him?" Bobby tentatively asked as Sam looked on in shocked disbelief, not knowing what to say or what was going on.

"Bobby, you know we haven't done anything to Dean yet, other then anoint his body with a little acacia, calamus and valerian roots, oh yeah, some black salt and poppy seeds with a little jasmine thrown in for scent. I can assure you that as we speak, he's getting the much needed rest his body has been begging for since yesterday, what with that pneumonia hitting him as hard as it has, and he needs all sleep he can get too, he's got a big day ahead of him tomorrow," she winked at Bobby as she paced the floor, her wickedly evil grin never leaving her face as he continued questioning, still now quite able to piece everything together yet.

"What do you mean, 'big day ahead of him tomorrow'?" He hoped playing semi-stupid would get her to explain what he didn't already know, which at the moment was quite a bit. This was not going the way he thought it was supposed to, as what he knew and what was actually happening didn't mesh.

"Come on Bobby, we both know what happens tomorrow. We've been looking forward to this day for ten years now, which in our world really amounts to the blink of an eye, unless you're waiting for something very important that was wrongly taken from you to be returned, then it can seem like an eternity. You know, the next time you try to banish one of the princes of hell permanently from the earth, you better make sure you get all of his minions. You shouldn't ever leave any of us behind, because we know how to make wrongs right. You humans think you know everything, when in fact you know nothing. You honestly thought what was done couldn't be undone, didn't you? John was smart, I'll give him that, but he only got this half right, and I'm surprised at you Bobby, not knowing either. Shame on you for taking John at his word and not doing your homework a little better," this time she did laugh, knowing she had the upper hand. She knew everything, but Bobby didn't, and that was making this all the more fun.

"You can't undo squat, not without John, and he's long gone and nothing but ash now, those boys made sure of that. You need his blood to break the seal, and I'm doubting he left you any before he passed, so I guess that leaves you up shit's creek without a paddle, don't it lady?" He tried sounding confident, but somehow failed, still wondering what she knew that he didn't.

"See Bobby, that's where you'd be wrong. You seem to forget that John's blood still flows through the veins of his sons, and two halves, especially in this case, do make a whole. We've got everything we need right here to release him between you three, and as you know, Dean is the key. He's the portal, the sacrifice, and the host all rolled up into one, and since he's already had a taste of Dean, he really wants him, and will have him. Who could ask for anything more?"

"Dean would never give himself up willingly for that, never," Bobby argued, his voice riddled with nothing but doubt and fear when he thought exactly what she said next.

"Not even to save his precious Sammy? Haven't we already established Dean would do anything for his little brother…anything?" Her smirk was already showing victory, making Bobby feel like they'd already lost. There was no denying what she said, Dean would do anything to save Sam, and there was nothing either one of them could do to stop it.

"Bobby, what the hell is she talking about? Would someone please tell me what the hell is going on?" Sam finally found a voice, and managed to finally get a question out, his confusion escalating the more the two of them spoke.

"Yeah Bobby, why don't you explain to Sam what's going on while I go tend to his brother's needs. He's so sick, he really shouldn't be alone, and I think it's about time for another dose of my special herbal remedy to help him breathe a little easier. You've got plenty of time to kill until morning, so don't leave any details out. I think Sam deserves to hear the whole story, don't you?"

She grabbed Dean's boots and coat and left the room before Bobby could say another word to her, the silent black-eyed twins following right behind, leaving Bobby and Sam tied to a wall and totally helpless to stop what only Bobby knew was happening.

"Bobby, please, what's going on? Does Dean really have pneumonia? And that shit she's using on him, I know what it's for. It opens you up to demonic possession and makes you easier to control. What are they using that on Dean for, and what do they want him so badly to do?"

The sigh Bobby let out was deep and sorrow filled, and he knew the time had come for him to break the vow of silence he'd made to John ten years before, and he prayed it wouldn't change the way Sam felt about him or his father forever. "Sam, you're not gonna like what I'm gonna tell you, not one bit, but here it goes anyway, and I hope you don't hate me when I'm through." With that, he began telling Sam the whole story.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Sorry to say, the speedy updates have come to an abrupt end now that this story is current with the other site it's posted on. I will do my best to get it up fast, so thanks in advance for your patience.**

**Chapter 8**

**December, 1997**

**John and Bobby sat at the small kitchen table with books and papers strewn everywhere, their research at a standstill now that they were having a rather heated discussion concerning their future course of action, and not for the first time either. They both had their own opinions, and neither man was shy or reserved when it came to expressing them.**

**"I'm telling you Singer, there's no other way. That demon isn't coming out of that body unless the body's dead, not once it figures out what we're doing. We only have one shot at this, and if getting it done right means there's going to be collateral damage, that's just the way it has to be," John expressed his feelings to his friend again, and waited for Bobby to start the same debate they'd already had twice today, not really in the mood to do it again. **

**"John, once he's in the trap, a simple exorcism will expel the demon from the body, no matter who the damn beast is. Then we can perform the banishment rite without anybody ****gettin****' killed that doesn't need to be. You seem to forget there is still a person in there," he stated to the stubborn man again, knowing it was no use. Once John's mind was made up, there was no changing it.**

**"No, I didn't forget there's a person in there, but you seem to forget that that the son-of-a-bitch volunteered to be a demonic host in the first place. That doesn't exactly make him an innocent victim, does it?" John retorted, clearly stating facts already in evidence.**

**"No it doesn't, but does that mean he deserves to die?" ****Bobby's turn to argue again.**** It was like some morbid ping-pong match, with John clearly winning.**

**"In my book, that makes him just as evil as the demons he serves, so yes, he deserves to die. I'm sure he knew the risks when he signed on, so tough shit for him. Besides, if the body's not dead, what's stopping that damn demon from going right back inside once we exorcise him out? You know we can't touch the damn thing if it's hiding inside someone."**

**"We drag his damn ass out of the trap then, that's what. Come on John, do we really have to kill him?" Bobby really did know it had to be done, but he just had to exhaust all the options before he finally agreed.**

**"How do you propose we pull him out of the trap once we free him? There are only two of us, and you and I are going to be a little busy once we have that thing out in the open."**

**"Three of us," ****came**** the voice from the other room, if a room is what you would call it. It was a small space containing a couch, a table, and a TV all of about ten feet away from the tiny kitchen, making it close enough for Dean to be able to listen to every word they'd been saying, as much as the older men tried excluding him from the conversation in the first place. He'd slowly risen from the couch he'd been laying on for the last hour or so and wandered across the few feet to the table and hoped he'd be told a little more of what the hell was going on. If they wanted him to come so badly, why were they keeping him in the dark?**

**"I already told you son, you're job is to be a lookout, that's it. This is too dangerous for you to do anything more," John reminded Dean as he stood there staring at his father, the look on his face somewhat blank and far away.**

**"But Dad, if it means…"**

**"There are no buts Dean. Bobby and I both have our own parts to play in this, and you are not getting any more involved ****then**** necessary. That means you stay clear and cover us. I don't want anything screwing this up. Don't you get it? This evil needs to be sent back to hell where it belongs for good, and this is our only chance. It's caused enough pain and suffering in this world already, and it needs to be stopped, which is exactly what I intend on doing." There was a tinge of anger in John's voice, and both men knew there was something a little more personal going on here that he wasn't letting on.**

**Bobby watched Dean turn and walk back to the couch with his shoulders slumped and his head hung low, like his father had just told him there was no Santa **and** he ran over the Easter Bunny on his way home from work. He knew there'd be no way of changing John's mind, so he didn't even bother to try. He dragged his feet the few steps it took to cover the small space and dropped back down hard onto the ratty, old sofa, stifling what sounded like a cough and a groan as a spring dug hard into his back at the impact. **

**"John, maybe Dean's right. If he can pull the body out, then we don't need to take a life that may not need to be taken," Bobby agreed with the kid, even though he'd dejectedly left the room already. For once, Dean had actually voiced somewhat of an opinion and attempted to disagree with his overly strong-willed father for a change. **

**"You know as well as I do that we need to do everything in our power to pull this off. That means killing the host so there can't be any chance of it escaping. You know it's the only way, so why do we keep arguing about it? If you're against it that much, I'll kill the bastard myself so you can keep your hands clean," John was about ready to blow, the argument never once seeming to change in his favor, and now his own son was pitted against him. He'd made his point to Bobby before bellowing his additional point to his son. "As for you Dean, you stand guard, that's it. I don't want you anymore involved then that, understand?"**

**"Yes sir," the two word response Dean gave being exactly what the patriarch wanted to hear.**

**"Tell me again why Dean is coming with us?" Bobby asked in a more hushed tone this time, trying to keep it between him and John, the lack of space making that nearly impossible though. "Wouldn't it make more sense to leave him here to watch over Sam and take Jim with us, instead of the other way around? Don't get me wrong John, he's shaping up to be a good hunter, but don't you think we may be making him bite off a little more ****then**** he can chew with this one? He's barely wet behind the ears, and it's not ****everyday**** we run into a demon of this magnitude."**

**"I already told you why we're bringing Dean with us, so end of discussion on that subject too," the answer was short and curt, John's face turned back to the literature on the table indicating it was now closed.**

**Dean had continued listening, even after John shot him down, and had he felt better, he probably would have been angry at Bobby for trying to talk John out of letting him come on the hunt, but truth be told, he didn't really feel like going anywhere at the moment. He'd been sick for days, but he hadn't dared tell his father. He knew how important this particular hunt was to John, and he had no intentions of letting his father down, not when his father wanted him in on the most important quest of their lives. If John wanted him there, he'd be there. Checking his watch and noticing the time, he stifled some sort of noise ****Bobby'd**** heard all the way in the kitchen, and grabbed his coat and keys before making a beeline for the door.**

**"School's almost out, I'm going to get Sam," he announced, not waiting for either man to say anything and slamming the door a little harder ****then**** necessary behind him. Bobby noticed it as it rattled the windows, but it went in one ear and out the other where John was concerned. He'd been so engrossed in what he'd been reading at the moment, he hadn't heard a thing.**

**"Tell me again why Dean's coming with us?" Bobby repeated his previous question yet again, not satisfied with John's earlier ****'Because I said ****so' ****answer****. "Something's not right with that boy, John. He's been awful quiet the last couple days, he hasn't been eating, he keeps sneaking off to god knows where to do god knows what, and he looks like shit when he comes back. You really think it's a good idea to have him covering our backs?"**

**John pulled his nose from the book he'd had it stuck in since he'd told his son he was playing the part of nothing more ****then**** muscle in what was probably going to be the most dangerous thing any of them had ever done, John included, and shot Bobby an annoyed look. "He's just nervous. He knows how important this is, and for once he's taking it seriously."**

**"I sure hope you're right," Bobby said, but knew there was more to it ****then**** that.**

**"Jim's ****gonna**** be here any minute and I want to go over this one more time before we head out so I know we've got it down."**

**"You ****wanna**** maybe wait for Dean? Don't ****ya**** think he should know what the hell's going on? You know, in case things get hairy." Bobby really didn't like the fact that even though John was dead set on Dean coming with them, he wasn't telling him much about what they were doing or why. Ignorance is not always bliss.**

**"No, I don't. If he knows what we're doing, he may try to get involved, and I've already said he stays out of it. The only reason he's coming is so we can keep an eye on him while Jim's got Sam. I don't want them getting a clue as to what we're up to and trying to stop us by using the boys against us."**

**"Ok John, it's your party; I just hope it's not our funerals."**

**John ignored the comment, his mind totally focused on the details of the ritual. He'd replayed it over and over in his head until he could probably do it in his sleep, and he knew Bobby had as well, but he just couldn't help wanting to do it again. If they screwed this up, they'd all probably end up dead, and ****Sam wouldn't be very far behind with his father and brother no longer there to protect him****. He was about ready to start at the top when he heard the knocking on the door, and he instantly knew who it was. The knocking had just been an announcement of his arrival, the man not waiting to be invited in.**

**"John…Bobby," Jim walked in and gave each one a nod before heading directly to the kitchen table and dropping the package he had in his hands down onto it.**

**Both men watched Jim untie the leather string wrapped tightly around the old canvas pouch holding it closed and unrolling it before them. Now fully open, it covered the entire length of the table with barely an inch to spare. The dirty brown material masked its contents well; the seven silver knives inside gleamed brightly, even in the dim light of the ****kitchen's**** lowly bare bulb hanging above them. They each had an ivory handle intricately carved with a different ornate pattern, yet all seven bore the engraving of a crucifix, not only set in the ivory, but etched into the metal as well. **

**"Here they are. All seven daggers have been cleansed in holy water and blessed, just like you instructed. Remember, once you use one, it's tainted and you'll need to use another. There are two for each of you with one to take out the host. Make sure you don't remove it from the body until the demons ****gone,**** it's the only thing that can expel it and keep it out. You guys sure you want to do this, just the three of you?" Jim asked, the concern obvious in his voice at what they were about to do.**

**"Yeah, we're sure, and we'll only need five. ****Dean's not part of this, just us."**

**"John, I don't think that's a very good idea. You know what you have to do, don't you?" He stared wide-eyed at both men with a look of shock; quite sure they had both gone temporarily insane.**

**"Yeah Jim, we know what we have to do. We have to get that damn demon into the trap, bury one of those daggers into it to drive it out of the host, seal it with a circle of fresh ****blood, then at the height of the eclipse douse it with holy water while we recite the banishment ritual, permanently sending the bastard back to hell. We've been over it a hundred times," Bobby answered first in a somewhat mocking tone, his patience with John starting to run thin.**

**"That's great, but how to you expect to complete a circle of blood with just the two of you. You are going to need Dean; you two can't do it alone. This is no ordinary demon Bobby, you're trying to banish Belial himself back to the bowels of hell. You make one wrong move, you're all dead and Sam's an orphan."**

**"What did you just say? I'm not an orphan," Sam bellowed at the three men as he and Dean entered the tiny ground floor apartment, the door slamming behind them almost as forcefully as it had when Dean had gone out.**

**"Nothing Sam, just talking shop. You go do your homework, and Dean…you go help him."**

**"I don't need Dean's help with my homework, Dad. I think I can handle it myself," Sam scowled, annoyance evident on his young face as he looked nearly eye to eye with his father. Even at fourteen, he was only a few inches shorter then John with plenty more years to grow.**

**"Come on Sammy, I can tell when we're not wanted," Dean mouthed, adding a few choice words that none of the men heard, but didn't go unnoticed by Sam, who caught each and every one. Both boys stomped off to the bedroom, Dean out of anger, Sam just because Dean did first.**

**"The circle, you honestly think you can do it with just the two of you?" Jim asked again in a near whisper once the boys were out of earshot, the question going unanswered the first time it had been posed. **

**"Don't ****worry,**** we plan on making it a really small circle."**

**"John…"**

**"I said don't worry, we'll handle it. Let's get packing Bobby, we've got a twelve hour drive ahead of us, and I want to get there with plenty of time to spare." With that, John effectively ended the discussion in true Winchester fashion.**

**John had already started gathering up all the items on the table, wanting to bring each and every one with him, just in case he needed them. Bobby stood back and watched him do it, knowing John Winchester was, for lack of a better word, anal about the order of his things. It would do him no good to help his fellow ****hunter,**** John would just reorganize everything to suit himself anyway. Bobby took the opportunity to head to the bathroom, pausing just outside the ****boys**** bedroom door and eavesdropping on the conversation when he heard something he didn't like.**

**"Why do you have to go with Dad? You should be staying home. Doesn't he know you're sick, or does he just not care?" Sam whined, the coughing in the background being expertly muffled by what sounded like a pillow. It took a few long moments for it to silence, but it finally did, then he heard Dean answer his brother's question, quite obviously out of breath.**

**"I'm not sick Sammy, it's just a cough. Besides, Dad said he needed my help, and I can't say no to Dad. What are you complaining about anyway? At least you get to stay here with Jim and eat his cooking. ****Lucky you, real food for a few days."**

**"Just a cough my ass, Dean.**** I know when you're sick, and this time you're really sick. I'm telling Dad he ****can't**** take you with him, and I'm telling him why." Sam jumped from the bed and bolted for the door, but with his brother between it and him, he didn't make it very far. Dean held out one hand and pushed Sam back down again and pointed at him in a rather threatening way. **

**"You tell Dad I'm sick, and I'll tell Pastor Jim about the magazines you've got stashed under your mattress. You want that lecture for the next couple days while we're gone after he burns each and every one of them and makes you scrub the toilet with your toothbrush, or do you want to have a nice weekend alone in the bathroom with Miss October? ****Your choice little brother."**

**"You wouldn't," Sam said in a horrified tone, with the look on his face to match.**

**"Try me," Dean shot right back with a smirk as he stood and started shoving clothes into his duffel, pretty sure they'd be leaving soon now that Jim was there.**

**"You suck, you know that?" Sam whined, knowing he'd lost…again.**

**"That's what big brothers are for Sammy, to make little brother's lives a living hell."**

**Sam never got a chance to say another word to Dean as the bedroom door opened wide and Bobby stepped inside, taking a good look at the older brother and not liking what he was seeing, contemplating what he should do about it. He really wanted to tell their father that on any other day he wouldn't want anyone else covering his ass, but right now, Dean was a liability, one that they really couldn't afford. Sam had just confirmed his ****suspicions,**** and he honestly didn't want to just let it go.**

**"Dean, can I talk to you… in private," he asked, motioning for him to come out into the hall. With a puzzled look on his face, he dropped his bag onto the bed and ambled out into the hallway, turning to face Bobby with a questioning look. The older man closed the door once he was out of the room, Sam's protest at being cut off and not allowed to ****listen**** going totally ignored. "Are you sure you're ready for this? It ****ain't****gonna**** be no cakewalk. If you can't handle it, you better tell your old man now while you still can. Jim can do the job, and there's no shame in bowing out if you're not up to it," he asked Dean, hoping the kid would say no. Yeah, fat chance of that.**

**"I'm fine Bobby, just some sniffles and a cough, no big deal," Dean answered, even though he was actually considering it.**

**"No bullshit kid, this is dangerous shit we're getting into, and I'd really like to live to see tomorrow, and I'm sure you and your Daddy would too."**

**"I swear to you, I'll be ready when the time comes," he replied, sounding full of nothing but confidence. Bobby didn't believe it, but reluctantly accepted it. Dean practically worshipped the ground his father walked on and he honestly didn't think he'd do anything to draw the man's wrath.**

**"I'll take your word for it then. Grab your shit, I think we're ready to go," he told Dean as he motioned towards the door with his thumb, never actually setting one foot in the bathroom as he'd intended to.**

**Dean wandered back into the bedroom to finish gathering what he would need for the next couple days as Sam silently stared at him with sad eyes, wanting to beg him to stay but knowing how badly Dean wanted to go. He never said a word, just waved goodbye as Dean walked out the door, the older brother throwing his own wave right back as he left. "See you in a couple days Sammy."**

**"You promise?" Sam called out, the tone of his voice stopping Dean dead in his tracks when he heard what sounded like fear in it.**

**"Yeah Sam, I promise. God, you're such a girl," he waved again, this time actually leaving, not noticing the one fingered wave that came back in return.**

**In true military fashion, the car was packed and ready to go with all three men inside the Impala and on the road within twenty minutes, sitting in silence as John drove the entire way, stopping only for gas when they needed it and food when Bobby finally complained he was hungry, but nothing else. Even with the pair of gruff voices occasionally arguing up front, Dean had slept most of the trip away in the back seat, waking for the first stop since falling asleep to make a mad dash for the grimy bathroom when he couldn't hold the coughing fit back anymore, it bringing up not only the fluid built up in his chest but most of the dinner he'd eaten hours before as well and leaving a rather colorful display in the filthy truck stop toilet. Partially waking at the second stop, he couldn't find one good reason to pick his head up off the seat, so he just didn't bother. Sleeping straight through the third stop, he was so out of ****it,**** he never once realized the car wasn't moving anymore. He would have slept through the fourth stop too, if his father had let him, unfortunately the fourth stop was the final stop, and as much as he didn't want to, he had to get out of the car.**

**"Wake up son, we're here," he heard John tell him, not really comprehending it but knowing that tone the second it rang through his ears, the slamming of both car doors helping bring him almost fully to his senses. He sat up slowly, every inch of his body stiff from what he hoped was the cramped quarters he'd been in for the last half day, the back ****seat of the Impala not exactly allowing any room to stretch. Pressing a fist into each one of his eyes, he tried rubbing the remaining sleep away, but found that no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't get it to go, he was still too damn tired.**

**"Shake a leg kid, it'll be light soon and we've got a lot of work to do," Bobby told him this time, that nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach really starting to eat at him now as he watched Dean drag himself from the car, his pained attempt at stretching nearly making the man cringe when he saw how much difficulty he was having at such a simple task.**

**Dean could feel Bobby's eyes glued on him, watching every move he made and knew he'd better start looking a little more normal if he was going to convince him he hadn't been full of crap when he said he was fine. Forcing himself to finish his stretch, he let out a fake yawn and casually walked to the trunk, grabbing whatever was still inside that his father hadn't already taken with him into the house they were parked in front of, the house that John somehow knew their prey would be at in just under ten hours, and made ****is**** way inside.**

**The house itself was nothing more ****then**** a dilapidated shack, the one detail standing out more so then anything was the huge hole in the roof that opened out into the clear, starry, pre-dawn sky. He dropped the bag he'd brought in with him, having no idea what was in it, and watched his father painting some weird symbol on the dirty wood floor directly under the gaping opening in the ceiling. He'd never seen it before. It was a large circle, about five feet in diameter with a second, smaller circle inside and lines going in all different directions. He stood there staring at it for a while, almost falling asleep on his feet until the harsh bark from his father jerked him back to reality, making him visibly jump.**

**"Dean…****wake**** up boy. Give me another can of paint out of that bag over there," he ordered as he shook the now empty container he held in his hand before throwing it across the room into the farthest corner, the clanging noise it made indicating it had finally come to rest against a wall somewhere in the dark.**

**Dean did exactly as he was told and tossed his father a full can of spray paint, his curiosity somewhat peaked as he continued watching John now draw weird symbols in-between the lines and circles. "What is that Dad?"**

**"It's a trap. We get that demon in here and he's stuck inside it until we either let it out or send it back to hell where it belongs," he told his son, not really wanting to share the information but his nerves starting to get the better of him as he thought about all the things that could go wrong in the next few hours.**

**"How do we get it inside? You don't think he's just ****gonna**** walk right in, is he?"**

**"That's not for you to worry about, is it? You let me and Bobby take care of that, you just keep your eyes peeled for anyone that may try to stop us, and remember Dean, when you shoot, you shoot to kill. Nothing stands in our way, nothing,"**

**"Yes sir," he said again, it always being the only thing John ever seemed to want to hear from his eldest son. "What can I do to help?"**

**"You can stay out of the way for now and prepare yourself. I'd be willing to bet he won't be coming alone, so get the weapons ready and find a good vantage point to sit in, ****then**** you wait and do nothing until I tell you to." He never looked at his son as he spoke, and Dean could tell he wasn't going to say anymore as he went back to his work. It amazed him how intense his father was at times.**

**It didn't take him long to do as he was ****told,**** most of the weapons being fully loaded and ready to go when they'd been packed into the trunk. He spread them out on the floor, checked each one twice, then returned them to the bag he'd stashed them in, sitting himself in the corner the paint can had landed in earlier to wait out the next few hours. He'd developed a rather nasty headache in the last couple hours now that the sun was up and beating in brightly through the makeshift skylight, the spot he'd picked to vegetate in directly in the path of the rays of light. He just closed his eyes, threw his arm over his face, rested his head in the corner, and promptly fell asleep.**

**"DEAN, WAKE UP!" His father screamed at him, the urgency in his voice unmistakable. Something was up. He jumped to his feet with all the energy he ****had,**** his mind still not fully back inside his head as he clutched a shotgun and trained it directly at the door and waited for something, anything, to come crashing in. "It's good to see you're alert. Now keep your ass awake, it's almost ****time****."**

**"Was that necessary John? Jesus Christ, the kid's white as a sheet now," Bobby questioned, Dean still not sure exactly what was going on yet.**

**"Yes it was," he answered, then directed his attention to his son. ****"You with it now?"**

**Dean snorted but controlled the desire to roll his eyes when he realized nothing was happening yet, it was just his father's not so nice way of letting him know he screwed up again. He swallowed hard before answering, not sure his voice would sound like his own when it came out. "Yeah, I'm good." He told them both, ****then**** retreated to his corner again in a standing position, shotgun still at the ready.**

**The hours passed slowly, each man not saying a word to the others. They just gave one another a look saying this was not going as planned, it being nearly ****time**** and nobody had arrived yet. No demon, no scouts, no nothing. Bobby was starting to wonder if John had been right when he voiced his concern about them finding out what they were doing and questioned to ****himself**** whether or not they should call Jim to see if everything was alright. He didn't need to though, he'd heard the noises first and John immediately noticed the tension in his body the second it hit him that whomever they'd been waiting for was finally there. They'd have to act fast now, they only had about twenty minutes left to spring their trap now that it had been set in motion and was actually starting to happen.**

**The beast masquerading as a man had not made a quiet entrance, opting to shatter the door instead of actually opening it as he barreled through, unprepared for the sneak attack that was waiting for him. John and Bobby had been standing on either side of the entryway, and the moment he came through, both men grabbed and pushed as quickly as they could until the man/demon was dead center of the trap John had so carefully adorned the floor with. Yellow eyes stared directly into the green, bloodshot ones across the room, and the demon knew he'd been right. Dean stared right back, unable to look away, trying to figure out how all this had been that easy.**

**"Well, seems I've gotten myself into quite the mess, doesn't it. I guess I fell into your little trap, didn't I? What are you planning on doing John? Do you know who you're dealing with? You really think you can send me back to hell all by yourself?" The demon all but laughed when he spoke to the eldest Winchester, his eyes never once leaving Dean's, who seemed to be hypnotized by the stare as he slowly drifted closer to the perimeter of the trap.**

**"I know who you are, Belial. You killed my wife, so yeah, I'm planning on sending you right back to hell where you came from, and I'm ****gonna**** make damn sure you can't come back," John seethed, his hatred coming out loud and clear in his voice.**

**"Is that what you think? I must say, I'm a little disappointed in you John. All these years, and you're still no closer to your answers then you were back then. Hate to tell you partner, but it wasn't me. I'm not the one that did your precious Mary in. Now, maybe if you let me out of this little circle here, I can try to shed some light on that little dark spot in your life. What do you say, fair trade? You let me out, and I'll tell you what you want to know." Belial grinned, looking like he was having some fun.**

**"No deal," John coldly said in barely a whisper, the ivory handled dagger he'd had in his hand now sailing through the air and heading straight for the bastards back as he continued to stare Dean down, the gaze never once breaking until the deadly weapon buried itself between its shoulder blades. The body dropped like a rock as a grayish black smoke billowed from its mouth, the trap it was currently in preventing it from going anywhere as the moon darkened rays of sunlight started flowing in through the opening in the roof.**

**The hold he'd had over Dean's mind was broken the instant the knife found a new home in the soft flesh of the hosts back, and the breath he'd been holding since it all had began finally let itself out, the intake of air that followed the biggest mistake he'd make, probably in ****is**** entire life. He'd been holding everything in for so long now, his chest was like a volcano ready to erupt, the only spark it needed was the mouthful of oxygen he'd just drew into it. The coughing was harsh and violent, the pain in his chest and ribs so bad now it made him double over, arms crossed over his stomach as he hit the floor. John watched in horror as Dean's body fell, his entire upper torso landing well within the border of the trap, leaving half his body in and half of it out. **

**"DEAN," he screamed as he reached for his son's shaking form, but he was seconds too late. The black mist was already well inside the young man.**

**Belial had been waiting for just this moment. He'd sensed something wasn't right with the kid from outside, before he'd even made an attempt at coming in. His intention had been to just throw all three men against a wall and rip their still beating hearts out, but when he realized who he had in his midst, he decided to have a little fun instead. He'd let them catch him in their little trap and think they'd won, just until he could get to the boy. He'd make a much better host then the one he'd just had, posing as the brother of little Sammy Winchester until the time was right. He could already feel the fight in it as he explored it, and he relished it.**

**"Bobby, where are the knives?" John yelled at the other man, who had pretty much been rendered dumbfounded since the whole thing began, shock setting in as he watched his friend plan on doing the unthinkable.**

**"No John…you can't…you'll kill him," he spit out between harried steps, now fully in the face of what was a once fearless hunter now turned into nothing more ****then**** a terrified father instead.**

**"Bobby, if he's ****gonna**** die, it's ****gonna**** be by my hand, not by some god forsaken demon.**** Give me a knife, we haven't got much time."**

**"John…"**

**"NOW BOBBY!**** We're running out of time."**

**Bobby ran across the little room to the rolled up canvas, throwing it open and drawing out the second of seven knives and ran with it back to John, still not believing he was actually going to witness what was about to happen. "Somewhere it won't do too much damage."**

**Their eyes locked on one another's for the briefest of seconds as John took the knife into his own hands and bent over Dean's body as it lay twitching on the floor. He grabbed hold of his legs and rolled him onto his back, praying Dean could hear him when he said, "Forgive me son," and without hesitation plunged the entire blade up to the hilt into Dean's ribs, the shriek of pain stifled only by the thick black smoke billowing out his mouth and back into the confines of the trap. Bobby wasted no time grabbing Dean's legs, dragging him across the floor and into relative safety as John pulled out two more knives and drew one across each palm to let his blood start to flow.**

**Bobby's head couldn't keep up with how fast things were moving, but when he heard John start reciting the words to the ritual, he joined him and mirrored his actions, opening his own palms to let them bleed on the floor as well. Both men worked their way around the entire circle, leaving no spot unmarred by the thick, red fluid they were leaving behind as their hearts beat hard and fast in their chests, each man repeating the phrases over and over until the room was almost completely dark. Hands covered in blood to the wrists, they ****each opened their silver flasks and looked up, the sun totally masked behind the moon and leaving nothing but a ring of glowing white light around it. The holy water sizzled as they sprayed it at the now vaporous form floating before them, the words spoken opening up a hole in the floor that glowed red with the fires of hell, and the instant they finished, the demon was gone, the hole was closed, and the room was dark and eerily still again.**

**John had barely noticed anything beyond the floor glowing red. Once Belial was on his one way trip back to where he'd come from, he'd stopped paying attention to everything but Dean, who laid deathly still on the dirty floor in a pool of blood that was spreading out wider and wider with each second that passed. He wrapped his arms around his son's shoulders, lifting him up off the floor and into his lap, what little breathing he was doing clearly strained and audible to both men's ears. "My god Bobby, he's burning up. Jesus Christ, was he sick?"**

**"We have to get him out of here John," Bobby urgently informed the shell-shocked man as he gathered up what knives he could find and stuffed them back into the canvas, losing count at how many he actually had and just rolling the cloth back up. They had to get out of there fast, and he knew it. He stuffed the satchel into the duffle Dean had tossed the guns back into and threw it over his shoulder, figuring whatever they'd left behind they could come back for later. Resting a hand on John's shoulder, he tried to get his attention once again. "John, he's ****gonna**** die if we don't get him help. Come on, let's go."**

**Bobby made a move to grab Dean's legs in the hopes it would snap John out of his ****funk,**** and it worked like a charm. He shot Bobby a ****'Don't touch him' ****look before he slid his own arms under his son's legs and lifted him off the floor like he weighed nothing. With no door to hinder their progress, both men made a mad dash for the car, John sitting Dean on the front seat between him and Bobby as Bobby pressed the blanket Dean had been sleeping with the entire ride there against the bloody wound in his side, the knife still buried deep inside it. The nearest hospital had been forty miles away, but John did the drive in less ****then**** thirty minutes, never taking one eye off Dean as he continued his struggle just to breathe.**

**They'd screeched up to the doors fast, John carrying Dean in as Bobby bellowed for help, and within seconds there was a small crowd ushering them through the doors to an awaiting bed. All the beds were awaiting someone, Dean being the only one there at the moment. John and Bobby had been pushed away as doctors did their thing, and within a few hours Dean was resting as ****comfortably**** as possible in a nice little room in the ICU after a rather smooth surgery to remove the buried blade. Everyone believed the bullshit story that the kid had fallen on the knife when he'd started having a coughing attack, considering how far it had been driven in, and since he had a pretty severe case of pneumonia to begin with, the fit was never in doubt. They were all just grateful that the knife hadn't caused any irreparable damage.**

**Dean had been out cold for a week before he finally awoke, his words shocking John as he sat next to him, never once moving from his side the entire time he'd been sleeping.**

**"Dad…where ****are**** we? Where's Sam****?"**** He asked is father, who had jumped nearly out of his skin when he'd heard Dean ask his questions.**

**"Sam's fine, don't worry. You're in the hospital, pretty nasty case of pneumonia, but the docs say you'll be good as new in a couple days. You just need to get some rest now, and we'll go home soon****,"**** he couldn't hide the relief in his voice, but Dean was too tired to even remotely pick up on it.**

**He was in and out for another three days with absolutely no recollection of anything that had transpired. The last thing he remembered was picking up Sam at school, and he actually thought it was the same day. It was probably for the best, better not to remember any of it anyway. John told him the stitches were from surgery to drain fluid from his lungs, and he believed it, he had no reason not to. John had also insisted they leave after another three days, his argument that Dean would be more comfortable at home never once challenged by any of the staff. They checked him out, put him in the car, and drove the twelve hours back home to Sam, who had been anxiously waiting for Dean to return, his own troubled face totally haggard from worry.**

**"I remember that, Bobby. They came home just before Christmas. God, he was still so sick when they got back, he couldn't even get out of bed for another two weeks. Now that I think about it, he wasn't really better for a good month, and it was the longest time I remember Dad being home at a time without leaving, not once. He was always hovering over Dean, and I think it started driving him a little crazy," Sam laughed at the last thought, not finding any real humor in it, but needing to laugh so he wouldn't cry. "That scar, I see it all the time, but he'd never tell me where it came from. He always says he doesn't remember. He got it because Dad almost killed him, didn't he? All so he could send some bad ass demon back to hell, and it ****wasn't' even**** the demon that killed mom."**

**"Sam, it wasn't like that, not exactly. That demon was inside your brother, and there really was no other way of ****gettin****' it out. If you're ****gonna**** be mad at your Daddy, you ****gotta**** be mad at me too, I let him do it, hell, I helped him do it."**

**"I'm not mad Bobby. In a weird way I understand. But what does all that have to do with what's going on now?"**

**"That demon, the red-eyed blonde bitch, that's Belial's wife, and I think she's pissed. Sounds like she wants him back, and she's figured a way to do it too. If she's going to do what I think she's going to do, Dean's in worse trouble now then he was then." **


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

She stood over Dean for the longest time, just watching him and staring intently as she studied each and every intricacy of his fever-flushed face while he lay there in a restless state of sleep, his breathing starting to become more and more strained again with each breath he tried to take. He looked so different, yet so much the same since she'd seen him last, when his body had been lying near death in a pool of his own blood on that filthy cabin floor. His youthful expressions from the past had been replaced by a somewhat haggard look of the present, the last few years actually taking their toll on someone still so young and making him look older than his years. In his sleep though, he gave off that boyish appearance once again, the one she'd remembered from that day, that day she'd seen his father almost kill him, but yet save him as well.

Between the tossing, the turning, and the chill-induced shivering, he'd been in a constant state of movement for hours now. She'd only left him long enough to greet their latest arrival, but even in that short amount of time, his body had started to deteriorate enough to concern her that he may not be able to fulfill his purpose in the morning. Resting a hand across his forehead, she relished the heat she felt pouring from it, knowing he was so much worse off this time then he'd been the last. Draping her free hand across his chest, she could feel the infection ravaging his body begin taking a firm hold and settling in for the long haul. She closed her eyes and whispered something softly into his ear, and the second she'd said it, his breathing evened out somewhat as the now constant shivers that had overtaken him calmed, and his face went pale. His mind didn't really need to know exactly how sick his body was, and she was more than happy to help it think otherwise, at least until morning. He really was the perfect choice, and she could see herself spending the rest of eternity with him, well, not him exactly, but close enough.

She thought about that day repeatedly, wondering what she could have done differently so it hadn't come to this. She had warned Belial the whole thing was a set-up, but when he found out the infamous John Winchester and his eldest son would be waiting for him at the end of their own little rainbow, he just had to go and see what all the fuss was about. He'd had no personal experience with the hunter, but he'd heard the chatter from his minions about the man that had an insatiable lust for revenge against the demon that had killed his wife and destroyed his family that he had to see for himself just who this major thorn in hell's side thought he was, even if John Winchester did think him to be the guilty demon of the entire bunch. No, it hadn't been him that had ripped John's world apart, but he did know who it had been and why it had been done, After all, there was gossip, even in hell. He'd planned on showing up and toying with the man before ultimately killing him and his son, leaving the youngest of the hunting family alone and vulnerable with both of his protectors gone to make him easy pickings.

He wanted to be the one to rid the world of the Winchesters once and for all, and that desire rendered her unable to talk him out of the fateful confrontation, so she'd decided to at least follow him instead. She'd arrived just a little too late to stop it once it had started though, and knew there was nothing she could to help him. She'd watched the entire scene unfold from the windows of the rundown shack, knowing exactly what they were going to do the instant she saw his corporeal form being quickly dispatched by the blessed blades as it crumpled to the floor in nothing more than a heap of flesh and leaving him stuck in the devil's trap someone had expertly drawn on the floor. She'd then seen Dean double over and fall inside with him and he instantly took up residence within the young man's body, only to be heartlessly driven out by John's unwavering hatred as he buried a dagger deep into his own flesh and blood to force him back out again. She stood there silently motionless and watched as they sent him back to hell, now believing every one of the rumors that John Winchester was definitely a force to be reckoned with. His need for revenge obviously outweighed anything and everything to him, even his own son's life.

She'd witnessed their mad scramble once it was over as John gathered up his bleeding, dying son and ran for the car, both men not caring what they'd left behind. She followed them to the hospital out of morbid curiosity, finding herself somewhat fascinated by the young man that had been so brutally attacked by his own father that he lay close enough to death she could almost smell the reaper's presence hovering over him as he struggled to hold onto what life he had left. She did her best to keep Death away, and for some reason Death obliged and let him live, at least for now. The reaper knew what she had planned for Dean even before she did, and he'd let her have him, opportunistically wanting to be on the good side of such a powerful force in hell. She stood by for days and waited for Dean to slowly improve; finally leaving when she was sure he'd live to fight another day. She'd kept tabs on him over the next ten years, each and every day that passed one day closer to her ultimate goal…tomorrow.

"Dean, are you awake," Iliana whispered to him as she gave him a gentle nudge when he started to mumble something she couldn't make out, the deep sleep he had been in that was much needed by his weary body finally starting to wear off as his eyes fluttered open slowly. "Feeling any better?"

He stared at her for a moment as his brain tried to figure out the answer to the question she just posed to it, and decided he needed to sit up before he could decide on any type of definitive response. Bringing his upper body vertical had been an enormous chore and a huge mistake as well when he'd done it far too quickly for his blood flow to compensate, making the room spin like he was on a merry-go-round moving way too fast to jump off of and there were no poles to hang on to. He just dropped himself back down on the cot, threw his arm over his face and waited for the overwhelming dizziness to pass, and hoped he could hold in the hacking he felt trying to work its way up and out at least until it was over.

He thought about her question as he laid there silently for the longest time, afraid to open his eyes until he was sure the room would be stationary again, and realized the painful rumble in his chest was still there, but not nearly as bad as it had been. Whatever she'd done to him earlier may have made him feel like he was coughing up not just his lungs but all his other internal organs with them, but it had actually made him feel a little better, and for that he was grateful. Cracking open one eye at a time, he breathed a sigh of relief when the room stood firm where it belonged, and this time he raised himself up slowly, watching every step she took as she come towards him.

"Here, drink this," Iliana said as she pushed a steaming cup of hot liquid at him, the smell it gave off somewhat as oddly familiar as what she'd rubbed all over him earlier, and Dean wasn't really sure he wanted to tempt fate by drinking it.

"What is it?" He asked her as she put the mug in his hand one hand and wrapped the other around it like he couldn't have done it himself.

"Herbal tea, it'll make you feel better," she smiled at him, practically raising the rim to his lips and seemingly wanting to force it down his throat. Actual interaction with him was starting to make her uncomfortable for some reason, but she wasn't sure why.

The scent of mint wafted into his nose as the warmth headed straight through his nasal passageways and down his throat, making his entire upper body relax and alleviating the incredible need to cough that he'd been forcing down since he'd sat up, and sipping at the hot tea made it even better. He didn't know what she'd put in it, but whatever it was it was working, making him feel better as soon as he swallowed it. The aftertaste was a little funny, but he'd deal with it if he could actually breathe easier, knowing he'd need every ounce of strength to get Sam the hell out of that house and away from whatever they were planning for him. Emptying the mug, he looked at her thankfully and handed it back, grateful for the help she was giving him. Now that he was awake, he needed to start making plans.

"Is Bobby here yet?" He'd asked her, having no idea how long he'd been asleep or how long it had been since he'd talked to him last.

"No, I'm sorry, he's not. I'm sure he'll be here soon though. It hasn't been that long since you two spoke," she lied, picturing the old hunter currently strung up inside the house right beside the younger Winchester. "You need to eat something if you plan on going after your brother when he gets here though. I made you some soup, I hope it's alright."

She replaced the now empty mug with a hot bowl of vegetables, broth, and what appeared to be chicken. He didn't want to know where the meat actually came from, and in all honesty, at this point Dean would have eaten his own shoes, he was that hungry. He could barely remember the last time he'd eaten, but he did remember that whenever it was, he'd picked at his plate before shoving it to the side when Sam had started annoying him. God, he would give anything to have Sam next to him right now, pestering him until he was ready to pop a vein. He ate what she'd given him without question, the warmth from the tea first, then the soup right after making him more than a little drowsy again. He'd barely finished what was in the bowl before he'd almost dropped what was left into his lap, but she'd been watching him and caught him before he could make the mess. Unable to keep his eyes open anymore, he slid his body back down until he was in the same position he'd started in.

"Please…wake me when Bobby gets here…need a plan…can't do…so tired…" the remaining words on his lips trailed off as the last few flutters of his heavy eyelids finally ceased, and he was right back into the sleep he'd just pulled himself out of.

"Oh, I don't think that's such a good idea," she softly whispered to him as she gently stroked his forehead. "I think you should just sleep until morning. You're going to need all the rest you can get."

Iliana sat next to Dean for the longest time and listened to his sounds of sleep, his breathing almost hypnotizing her. If she hadn't been a demon herself, she probably would have curled up next to him and slept herself, but demons didn't need sleep, so she just sat next to him and enjoyed his silent company. She'd been so enthralled with watching the man that she ignored the sounds she'd heard from across the barn, until she felt the eyes fall on her back.

"Why are you here Ilsa? You know what will happen if he wakes and sees you, don't you? It would ruin everything," she chastised her demonic counterpart without ever turning to look at her.

"I don't think he'll be waking up anytime soon, considering what you just put in that soup. Believe me, he won't see me. Look at him, he has no clue I'm even here right now, he has no idea you're here for that matter either," she stated to Iliana.

"And why exactly is it that you are here right now?" She asked, already knowing the answer, but asking anyway. It was the same reason she was sitting there staring at him for hours on end.

"Curiosity. I wanted to take a good look at him, just like you are. He is going to be my father soon, after all. Can't fault me for wanting to familiarize myself with his face, can you? He doesn't look very good, are you sure he'll be up to this tomorrow?"

"Oh, I'm sure. He has a one track mind…Sam. It will be all he'll be able to think about when he wakes up, but he'll be so sick that when he finally sees what we've done to his little brother, he won't have any willpower to say no to anything we ask of him. He's already not putting up much of a fight against anything now. By morning, he'll be like clay for the molding," she paused in her thoughts, and couldn't help but wonder what was going on in the house while Ilsa was out here with her. "Where is your sister? I don't want her left alone with them too long, she may say something stupid. You know how she is."

"She's in the house, getting things ready. We want to be prepared when the time comes."

"Good. I can always count on you to keep her in line, can't I? Come on, let's go. I'll help you prepare. He's not going anywhere for a while anyway."

Iliana took one last look at Dean as he slept, his face once again flushed as sweat trickled down his forehead, but his sleep was quiet and restful. She knew it would be, at least until morning. She knelt down next to him and pulled the covers that were over him up to his chin and kissed him on the brow before leaving, confident she'd spoken to Dean Winchester for the last time. They walked out of the barn together, leaving Dean behind in his oblivious slumber and hastily made their way back to the house, their conversation going in a totally different direction.

"Mother, why him? Why is he so important? Why not just use Sam, he's the one with the power anyway, isn't he?" She asked, never being told the real reason why it had to be Dean. All she had been told is that they wanted him and not Sam, and nothing more had been said. The sisters were soldiers in their own army of sorts, just like the Winchester brothers, and were expected to do what they were told without question.

"That night, when they sent Belial to hell, he had briefly been inside Dean, but in that very short amount of time, he could feel Dean's misguided need to do whatever it takes to protect Sam. Dean would die for his brother, of that I have absolutely no doubt, especially if he thinks he's doing it to save him or protect him. We offer Dean a deal, so to speak. Give yourself up willingly to Belial as his host, and in return, Belial will shield Sam from the dark future only Dean knows he's destined for. Sam can ride off into the sunset and live the normal life he so desires without ever having to look over his shoulder again, and Dean won't have to face killing his little brother as his father had made him promise to do if the time ever came. If Dean thinks giving himself up to us will save his precious Sammy from a fate worse than death, he won't hesitate to agree, not for a second."

"What about Sam? Do you really think he'll just stand by and watch his brother throw his life away? What will stop Sam from coming after Dean and attempting to exorcise him free?" Ilsa asked the question, not hiding the concern in her voice.

"Sam will be unable to do any such thing. The power of the eclipse works two ways. John suspected, but in all honestly, he and Bobby only knew the half of it. Not only can it banish even the most powerful demons back to hell, it can also be used to bond us to the body we inhabit, making it impossible to exorcise us out. Any attempts Sam makes to free Dean will be fruitless, and Sam will know it, we'll make sure of it. Oh, he'll search and search for a way to get out, but in the end, he'll never find one. Should he become too much of a nuisance, Belial will just kill him. Protection only goes so far, after all."

Ilsa shook her head in acknowledgement as they entered the house, each and every word Iliana spoke ringing true to her ears. Dean would do whatever it takes to save his brother, and with the promise of Sam being free forever from the dark, demonic forces that have dogged him his entire life, he'd gladly sacrifice himself to make that happen. Now, it was just a matter of time.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: I'm really sorry for letting this story slide, and I will do my best not to do it again. With it being Easter today and all, I thought this would fit in quite well. Hope everyone has a blessed day today!

Chapter 10

"What do you mean '_Dean's in worse trouble now'?_ What haven't you told me yet? What is it she's planning on doing to him?" Sam slung the slew of questions in rapid fire succession at the older man, the story he'd just laid on him hard enough to swallow, but the ominous statement Bobby had just made right after it was an even harder pill to take.

"The eclipse Sam, it was the key to banishing that demon to hell where he belongs. I think it may also be the key to releasing him," Bobby started his answer, then left Sam hanging with a long pause as he tried to dig deep into his own thoughts to remember something, anything, that would be useful. 

"You keep referring to the eclipse. How is it the key to releasing him, and what does the eclipse have to do with any of this?" Sam asked yet another question with still no answers to the first ones, his head swimming in a sea of confusion that was just about ready to drown him if Bobby didn't help him come up for air.

"Sam, she said Dean was the key. If she's found a way to bring him back, which it sounds like she has, I can only guess it has to be done the same way, during a full solar eclipse."

"Which happens over North America oh, like, once a decade," Sam retorted, the word 'decade' hanging in the air and eliciting a look in Bobby's eyes that sent a shiver up Sam's spine, and suddenly he knew the direction this was starting to go in.

"Tomorrow Sam. There's one tomorrow, directly over where we are right now," Bobby informed the younger hunter, letting him in on that little bit of information he'd been totally unaware of.

"She said Dean would be the host, she's not saying…" Sam asked, now that the pieces of the puzzle were starting to come together in his own head. 

"I think they're planning on him being a Motel 6 for the demonic bastard. What I can't quite figure out is… "

"Having fun catching up boys?" Iliana inquired as she and Ilsa strolled into the room with Isabel silently following right behind, red eyes glaring at both men. "Did you fill Sam in on all the gory details yet, Bobby? Did you tell him what his father did to his brother, tell him how he almost killed him, and for no good reason?"

"No good reason my ass. If John hadn't done what he did, Dean would still be housing that evil inside him right now, and you know it as well as I do," Bobby angrily shot back.

"Housing it, maybe, but possessing it, no. For such a great hunter, you really don't know anything, do you Bobby? John obviously never told you the whole story, did he? Or maybe he didn't really know it himself," she smiled at him as she ran a cold finger across his chin, making him shudder. "Belial only possesses the willing… it's a minor limitation placed on him by, well…that doesn't really matter. All that matters is that Dean willingly gives himself to Belial in exchange for Sam, which we all know he'll do. Once he does that, the eclipse will take care of the rest."

"What's so god damn important about the eclipse?" Sam demanded, still waiting for some kind of answers.

"How apropos a question, Sam. God damn would be exactly right. Do you recall your lessons on the crucifixion, or did Jim leave those minor details out?" She laughed, her eyes going from red to baby blue in an instant, then continued. "And I quote; '_And it was about the sixth hour, and there was a darkness over all the earth until the ninth hour. And the sun was darkened, and the veil of the temple was rent in the midst. And when Jesus had cried with a loud voice, he said, Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit: and having said thus, he gave up the ghost.' _Luke 23:44-46. Need I say more? Where exactly is it you think Jesus went?"

"Oh my dear god, you **can **bring him back, can't you?" Bobby said with a sigh, knowing he had no way of stopping them. 

Hard laughter erupted from her when she heard Bobby's defeated tone, and it took her a second to compose herself before continuing their torture, the dark red staring at them again. "There you go with god again. God has nothing to do with this. Do you really think he cares what happens down here anymore?" Taunting both men with every word she said, she mercilessly continued. "Yes, Bobby, I can bring him back, and Dean's going to help me do just that. I know what's in store for Sam, and believe me, so does his big brother, his protector. He'll trade himself for Sam with no questions asked, especially when he finds out that we can save Sam from his destiny and from himself. All Dean wants in life is for his baby brother to be safe and secure, and we can give that to him, for a small price."

"A small price? His body and soul is not a small price!" Sam screamed, his heart suddenly filled with sheer anguish at the thought of what could very well happen right before his eyes.

"Not to him it's not." Iliana replied, knowing she was right, and knowing neither man could deny it.

"Just tell us how you plan on doing this?" Bobby had to ask, hoping against hope she would tell him. 

"It's quite simple, Bobby," she tossed him that sickly sweet smile again, then with the wave of her arms, all the furniture slid from the center of the room to various corners like Moses parting the Red Sea, leaving nothing but the animal skin rug dead center of the room. She walked up to it slowly, grabbed it by the corner and dragged it away, the revelation of what was underneath making Bobby's eyes nearly fall from their sockets. "Recognize anything?"

Beneath the dead fur cover sat the wooden floor of the partially rotted, ramshackle cabin, still adorned with the devil's trap John had so painstakingly painted on it ten years before. Somehow perfectly preserved, it was also adorned with the blood that had been left behind. Sam could feel the bile rising in his throat when he looked at it; not at the dark stains around the perimeter, but at the large stain in the center. That blood had been neither his father's nor Bobby's. From what Bobby had just told him, that blood had been Dean's, and it made him physically ill to have to see it. Satisfied that the shock of what they were seeing exactly the response she'd hoped for, she turned to face the older hunter again, her hands suspiciously hidden behind her back.

"How…what…" Bobby tried to spit out, but he found himself slightly speechless. He knew now things couldn't get much worse.

"You know, Bobby, I really need to thank you. Well, you and John. In your haste to get Dean to safety, you really weren't very careful with what you left behind, were you?" She grinned from ear to ear, revealing the surprise she still had hidden behind her back, the one last element that was key to the whole thing. "You never could find that one missing dagger, could you, and you never did get that one back that the doctors pulled from poor Dean's nearly dead body either, right?" She buried both daggers deep into the floor at Bobby's feet, leaving him to just stare at them stunned.

'You went back for them?" He'd finally found a voice to ask.

"Of course. I knew I would need them someday. Them, and Dean. That's why I kept the reaper at bay, the one that came for him that day. You see Sam, your father really did kill your brother, and if it hadn't been for me denying Death it's prize, he wouldn't be here anyway, so the way I see it, he's already ours. All he needs to do is say yes…oh yeah, then drive that dagger into his own ribs in that very same spot. It shouldn't be too hard to find, with that scar there and all. We all know he'll do it, once he knows what's at stake."

"Ooh, I think I'm gonna be sick," Sam groaned, pretty sure he couldn't hear or see anymore without losing his mind completely.

"Good, it'll be a nice touch," Iliana said, then addressed the two other women that were waiting patiently for her to finish. "You two know what to do." Then she was gone.

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Dean woke slowly, only vaguely aware of the low, menacing rumble filling the air in the room as he tried prying his eyes apart once he realized the ominous sound wasn't coming from his own chest but from somewhere else in the room entirely. He groggily looked around, his head still somewhat fuzzy from the blissful sleep he'd been in mere moments before. Rolling over onto his side, he tried to find the source of what sounded very much like a growl now that he was a little more coherent, and realized very quickly that he wouldn't have very far to look. With the slight turn of his head, he felt the hot breath on his face before he saw the sharp teeth ready to tear into his flesh, and with a held breath his eyes went wide when they did finally turn to stare back at the monstrosity before him.

"Whoa…Easy there, Cujo," he tried saying in as calm a tone as possible, hoping the ferocious looking beast staring him down couldn't smell the fear suddenly radiating from him or hear his heart pounding hard and fast in his chest. It made no advance on him but continued its terrifying snarl as it bared its teeth even more, like it wanted to show its prey just how sharp they really were before digging them in. Dean swallowed hard as he laid there, trying to summon all of his willpower to remain motionless as he held the animal's gaze, knowing it was only a matter of time before it grew tired of just staring and started ripping him apart.

The longer he refused to move or breathe, the harder it became to control his defiant lungs until he could no longer hold in what was screaming to come out, and the hacking that had built up inside finally burst forward in a very painful, body jerking fit that seemed to last far longer than his body could seemingly tolerate. He'd been unable to stop his fall from the cot to the floor when it started and was oblivious to the whereabouts of what was the biggest, fiercest, hungriest looking dog-thing he'd ever seen, but once his chest quieted and his body finally reduced itself to mere shivering as he lay there half naked and covered in dirt and sweat on the hard ground, he fully expected it to close in for the kill.

Much to his surprise, when he was blessedly able to open his eyes again, he saw that the huge, black mastiff was no longer in its attack stance and ready to tear his throat out, but just eying him curiously instead, but then as if called to by god himself, it turned and ran from the barn into the bright light coming from outside through the still open door. He barely had the strength to move but forced himself to sit up, the frigid outside air billowing in and the cold ground underneath him motivating him enough to climb back onto the makeshift bed and cover himself for protection. He knew he had to close that door, he just didn't have the strength to do it yet. He rested himself on his back and stared up at the ceiling as his brain throbbed in its skull and his mouth went totally dry, waiting for some sort of energy to return to him, and slowly but surely it finally did, enough so that he could drag himself up and start a search for his clothes. The fire burning in the corner had long since gone out, leaving the entire building an icebox, but he thought he remembered Iliana leaving his wet articles of clothing near it to dry them out. _'Iliana, where the hell is she?' _He couldn't help but wonder when the realization fully hit him that he was alone.

Staggering over to the corner the stove sat in, he thankfully found exactly what he was looking for, and piece by piece he painstakingly pulled on one garment on after another over his sweat covered body until he was fully clothed, save for his jacket. He couldn't seem to find that anywhere, and damn it if he wasn't still freezing, even being covered. He searched the entire area around the cot, then the stove, then back to the cot before finally seeing what looked like a sleeve peeking out from under a small pile of hay. He pulled it out, shook it off, and slid it on.

"How the hell did that get there?" He questioned out loud, knowing he was talking to himself but not really caring. His head was pounding so hard now that he could barely see, his chest rumbled hard with every breath he tried to take, and his fever was burning so hot he could barely think. Knowing full well it would be like trying to soak up an ocean with a sponge but needing any kind of relief right now, he dug through his pockets in search of the bottle of Tylenol that he knew had to be in one of them, and after finally finding it, popped four into his mouth. As hard as he tried, he couldn't moisten his throat enough to swallow them, and as they slid to the back of his throat and the chalkiness started coating his tongue, he started to gag. With nothing else to aid him, he pulled his flask from his pocket and took a healthy swig of what he dreamed would be a healthy dose of whiskey, but was unfortunately nothing but water. With barely any energy left, he dropped himself back onto the cot and waited.

He'd had no concept of time, but eventually the intense throbbing in his head that made even his teeth hurt finally ebbed to just a dull ache, and with a great effort he tried to stand again. The barn was too cold to his already chilled body, and he had to get that door closed to keep the wind out. He worried about Iliana, having no idea where she could have disappeared to, but he had no strength to go searching for her at the moment. He dragged his feet to the door and made to shove it closed until something caught in his blurry vision just outside. He didn't need to see it up close to know that it was a blood stain, and he watched it trail from the pool in the snow back into the barn, pooling again just inside the door.

"Oh shit…I know that's not mine," he'd said, again to himself as he finally forced the door closed. Turning in the direction the house should be in, he pulled back the covering on the window and peered outside, his stomach falling even farther to the floor when he saw the unmistakable pick-up truck sitting at the side of the house. "Double shit!"

With his head still aching, his fever still burning and his body still shaking, he sucked it up and made a decision. He had to go into that house, because now not only was Sam in it, but Bobby and Iliana were probably there too, and by his estimate, he didn't have a whole lot of time to do anything about it. 

End Notes: Sorry for the long delay in updating, but some things just blocked this story from my mind for a while. I hope everyone likes this one, and I really hope I didn't leave anything important out. Oh yeah, and Happy Easter again!


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Sam and Bobby watched helplessly as the pair of evil blonde twins scuttled about the room without saying a word to them or to each other as they either silently stoked the already ridiculously raging fire in the hearth that made it nearly tropical in the room or removing items from one corner to the other that may potentially, even if only remotely, be used as a weapon of some kind should Dean not be as cooperative as they all suspected he would be. Wooden picture frames with glass faces depicting a once seemingly happy, blonde haired, blue eyed family of five standing before the very same fireplace the photos adorned the mantle of, or smiling happily on the deck of a large sailboat that seemed to be cruising the open waters of some unknown lake in the bright summer sunlight were tossed aside without a second thought, the women that discarded them so carelessly being the very same women depicted in each and every one of them…well, their bodies anyway. Those women were long since dead now, there was no saving them.

It took the two of them quite some time, but they eventually emptied the room of just about everything it contained but the furniture that Iliana had shoved to the sides, and as Sam hung there like a fish on a hook with nothing to stare at but the old bloodstain his brother's dying body had left behind as it lay bleeding in the trap, he wished he had a free hand to rub his eyes when he thought he saw the dark spot embedded in the wood start to do a ghoulish sort of dance in the flickering light of the flames. Shifting his eyes forcefully away from the offending mark to the daggers buried in the floor in front of Bobby instead, he was convinced he'd stay true to his earlier word when he realized one of those weapons had been buried deep in Dean's ribs by their own father, and if those demon bitches had their way, would be again, but by his brother's own hand this time. It took everything he had in him to stop his stomach from churning, and he really didn't know if he could do it much longer, considering his mind really had nowhere else to wander anymore.

Bobby had also gone utterly silent as he stared, wanting more than anything to talk to Sam, but not wanting to give either woman the satisfaction of hearing him express what was going through his mind. Each and every thought that marched past his brain was followed by an even darker, more sinister one, and he couldn't stop them from coming one after another until he was about ready to throw up right along with Sam. Her words echoing in his head prompted each addition to the current string of negativity, starting with her crack about Dean knowing what was in store for his little brother. He desperately wanted to know what she had meant by that. Obviously John had known something, and had somehow relayed it to Dean before he had doomed himself to the pits hell, but he had apparently not felt the need to share it with anyone else. It didn't surprise him though; he and John hadn't really been on speaking terms for quite some time, the downhill slide between the two of them starting that very day ten years before and progressively gaining speed over time until they could finally no longer bear to look at one another anymore, let alone be in the same room together. He also knew asking Sam would be pointless, because there was no way in heaven or hell that Dean would share that little secret with his baby brother. That was one thing the Winchesters could do with perfection…keep secrets.

She had also told them that Dean had been, for the most part, dead. Had it not been for her keeping the reaper away, he would be nothing but ashes scattered to the wind and a painful memory to both he and Sam. They had not 'almost' killed Dean, they had actually 'killed' him, and he truly was living on borrowed time, and not just once but twice in his short life. Borrowed up until this point, when it was payback time, and she intended on collecting…with interest. He'd lost track of time after that thought made him feel even more sick then he already did, not that he could even tell what time it really was, but he had noticed when both women had silently left the room, and jumped at the opportunity to finally question Sam.

"You ok kid?" He asked him first, fully aware by the look on the other man's face that he wasn't, but asking anyway.

"No Bobby, I'm not ok. They're gonna kill Dean, no, wait, let me rephrase that, they are going to make Dean kill himself, and there isn't a damn thing we can do to stop it, is there?" He replied with a look of fear in his eyes.

"I don't know Sam, I just don't know," Bobby said dejectedly. From the positions they were both currently in, there really was nothing either one of them could do but witness the horror.

"This is all Dad's fault, you know?" Sam told Bobby, the sound of fear in his voice being replaced with what the older man thought to be something close to hatred and disgust.

"How do you figure that?"

"Before he died, he told Dean something, something about me, something I had to practically pry from …" There it was, brought up without him even having to ask, and Bobby hung on every word Sam said as he momentarily paused to gather his thoughts. "He made Dean promise that if he couldn't save me, he'd have to kill me. You heard what she said. Dean can save me by saying yes, and you know that he'd go to his grave to keep that promise to Dad. Do the math Bobby, two plus two makes four. He'll do whatever they say if he thinks he's got any chance of saving me from whatever fate I'm supposed to be destined for, even die."

As much as Bobby wanted to argue with him, he couldn't deny that everything Sam had just said was undeniably true. Dean's unbridled loyalty to his father had not died when the man himself had passed, and the nearly obsessive compulsion to protect Sam that John had instilled in him probably never would. Both were ingredients in a recipe that would give a little part of the demon world exactly what they wanted and they knew it, and the way Bobby saw it, they were all screwed.

"There isn't a damn thing we can do, is there?" Sam said with a heavy hearted sigh, somehow knowing that utter defeat was only hours away.

"No, there isn't anything you can do," Ilsa had interrupted as she stared both men down. She had quietly reentered the room with her now silent shadow right behind her, both women carrying a small pail with them. Ilsa approached Sam with that disgusting smile that he just wanted to smack right off her face, and she knew it, which only made her want to smile even more. "Sam, you're not overly fond of that shirt you're wearing, are you?"

He eyed her suspiciously, wondering where the hell that idiotic question had come from, and actually had to look down at himself when he realized he had no clue what he was wearing. His stomach started turning again when he noticed what he had on wasn't even his, and it turned him temporarily stupid, leaving him with no ability to think of anything wise ass to say. "It's Dean's,so yeah, I am," was all that came out, the words making him fall silent again.

"Well, in that case, I guess it doesn't really matter what we do to it since he's not going to need it anymore," she snickered before slowly reaching into the tiny bucket she carried, and Sam could distinctly hear the sloshing of the viscous fluid inside. She brought a small sponge to his face, and judging by the smell of it, it was saturated with blood, and not fresh blood. She brushed it gently against the top of his head as she squeezed it lightly, allowing the red fluid to seep out and flow freely through his hair and down his face until it rolled off his chin and onto his chest, making the trail it left nothing but a sticky, wet mess. The smell was more than overpowering, and Sam could feel his stomach twist and lurch as she dipped the sponge back in the bucket, then pressed it firmly against him again, this time directly on his upper chest, leaving a large, wet spot covering his shoulder that sent blood dripping down his arm. That had been the straw that finally broke the camel's back, and suddenly anything and everything that had still been in Sam's stomach was either on his chin, shirt or pants, making the smell ten times worse than it had already been. "Thanks Sam, that'll add to the already gruesome sight you've become. Now, if we could just get Bobby here to do the same…"

She stood back and surveyed her and Isabel's handiwork, quite pleased with the results they had achieved. Both men were now covered in what looked like their own blood as if they had somehow been tortured to near death over the last few hours and been left hanging to marinate in their own juices. The girls weren't quite finished though, they still had two more very important details to attend to before the scene was set to complete perfection. As Ilsa went back to the fire and piled one piece of wood after another on the top of the already hearty blaze, Isabel ventured into the farthest corner of the room and into the dark. Both men heard something that sounded rather odd to their ears, and as it continued in speed, the dark that enveloped the entire room started slowly giving way to an intense bright light as the ceiling and roof opened up to the crisp, cool, outside air and bright sunshine overhead. The fire that had been heating the entire room suddenly didn't seem very hot anymore as both men felt a hard chill course up their spines, noticing the harsh, single ray of light that landed on the floor just outside the trap.

"Holy shit, it's morning already," Bobby couldn't hold back as his eyes tried adjusting from almost total dark to sheer blinding light. Once he could see again, he cringed when he saw Iliana had returned.

"Yes, it's morning already Bobby, really late morning anyway. My, how time flies when you're having fun, right? It looks like everything's just about ready, all we need is one more very important thing…" she paused in her oratory when she heard the sounds of nails scratching against the hard wood floor and opened her arms wide to greet her latest arrival.

Sam's mouth dropped when he saw the gigantic black dog race into the room. It was nearly the size of a small horse, or at least it looked that way as it reared up on its hind legs and greeted its obvious mistress face to face with a briskly wagging tail and overly excited pant. Every comment the woman made was answered by a deep, throaty bark, and if Sam didn't know better, he'd think she was actually talking to the beast, and understanding it.

"Good morning Rasputin, or should I say afternoon?…What's that you say, you woke poor Dean…Good boy. He's not feeling very well this morning, well, we'll see if we can take care of that for him, won't we? I'm sure it won't keep him from being here in no time flat once he sees what we left behind for him at the door though. You've done well, now go…watch from the window and alert us when he's coming," she praised first, then commanded. When the animal was finally out of eyeshot, she turned her attention back to Sam and Bobby. "Well, sounds like that one more important thing will be coming to join the party, good thing too; the festivities need to get started soon. You are anxious to see your brother, aren't you Sam? I'm sure he's anxious to see you, and you too Bobby. He does care for you so much, it's almost disgusting."

"You'll never get away with this, you bitch. I'll hunt you both down if it's the last thing I do, I swear…" Sam seethed, the anger rising in the pit of his stomach making his ears start to turn a bright shade of red.

"Such language Sam. You'll hunt us down and do what? Exorcise your precious brother free from our grasp? I'm afraid that just isn't going to happen Sam. You see, once Belial takes possession of Dean, the power of the eclipse will bond the two of them together for all eternity, or until Belial is ready to move on. If it's any consolation, at least your brother's physical form will live to a ripe, old age, even if his soul doesn't. He's going to enjoy that body very much. Who could resist all that raw strength he has?" She laughed heartily when she noticed the looks on both of their faces, and couldn't help but get one more dig in before silencing them both. "What's the matter, missed that minor detail in John's journal? Guess you should have been paying more attention, then maybe you would have known you were walking into a little more than just a simple human sacrifice to some crazy ass pagan god. That is what you thought, isn't it, Bobby? Never mind, I don't want to hear it anyway."

She motioned to the girls to finish their one and only remaining task, and as Iliana took the bucket of blood from Ilsa to pour what was remained inside it over her own chest and back, her underlings proceeded to wrap duct tape around both men's faces until their mouths could no longer utter any kind of sound but a silent scream.

"I sure hope you don't feel the need to vomit again Sam, that could get very ugly, and I'm sorry you guys won't get to actually say goodbye to Dean, but I really can't have you warning him in any way that what he does today will be forever. He'll always think in the back of his mind that Bobby, or even you Sam, will try to free him, so we'll just let him keep thinking that way," she ranted, until the bark echoing through the entire house silenced her. She smiled as she watched a tear stream down Sam's face, then just dropped her body to the floor at his feet and waited.

Dean was coming.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: As usual, I feel the need to apologize for my lack of attention to the comments left after each chapter. Please remember that I do so enjoy reading the thoughts and views of everyone that reads, even if I'm an inconsiderate jerk when it comes to answering. These chapters are usually posted a couple days after they go up at the other site their on and sometimes I just forget. Sorry as usual, and I hope you enjoy the update.

Chapter 12

The longer he stood there, he honestly didn't think he could do it, and for Dean to let a thought like that cross his mind was a rarity. He could barely breathe, barely see straight, and could barely stop shaking for more than two seconds at a time, but the little voice he kept hearing over and over in his head told him he had to. He had to get moving because Sam and Bobby were in danger, he knew that for sure and he could feel it in his bones right along with all the other aches and pains he felt.

Iliana had told him her daughter was somehow holding Sam inside that house, told him that when he threatened to go storming in when he'd first gotten there and found the dead body frozen in the snow. She had killed her own father, for some reason still unknown to him, and then taken Sam, and now she had Bobby too, but for what he was still in the dark. He knew from his father's journal and from things Bobby had told him in the past that an eclipse held significance to many different aspects of the supernatural world, from paganism to witchcraft and if certain rituals were performed properly under them, they held unimaginable power. His first assumption had to be that the girl was some kind of witch though, since he'd never really gotten around to asking her mother what her motives for murder had been before she seemed to have disappeared. All that on top of the fact that Iliana had been missing long since before that gargantuan beast that he was pretty sure had been a dog had forced him from his peaceful sleep. No, he had to go, and he had to go now, before that eclipse started, but he wasn't ready, not quite yet.

Dean searched the entire barn to no avail for the .45 and his knife that he knew he had brought with him but came up empty handed in his quest for either one. He had no idea what he'd be stepping into once he entered that house but it would more than likely be a big, steaming pile of shit that would surely stick relentlessly to his boots, especially considering he now had no weapons of any kind to take in with him. He firmly believed that if he went in empty handed, he was pretty much signing himself up for a suicide mission. Scouring every inch of the musty barn but finding nothing of use, he decided his only viable option was to try and make a break for Bobby's truck. It wasn't that far, not really, and it had to have something of value tucked away somewhere inside it. Hunters like Bobby never went anywhere without even the most rudimentary weapons, and he decided he would be happy with just about anything right about now, especially if it was sharp.

Creeping through the door and out into the bright light of what he assumed was morning, he slowly made his way to the end of the building and peered around the corner to scan the area. His entire surroundings were like a desolate, snow covered wasteland that seemed devoid of all traces of life, and the feeling it gave him was a little too unsettling. With no cover to hide behind between here and there, he dropped onto his hands and knees again, just as he had when he'd come to the barn in the first place, and crawled away from his shelter all the way to the side of the beat up, old pick-up that was hidden from the view of the house, having no idea if the killer blonde may be watching him from inside. Bobby had blessedly left it unlocked, and he clumsily jerked open the door and crawled inside, the journey to the vehicle leaving him tired and breathless.

He could feel his chest start to constrict to an almost unbearable level as he turned onto his back and took in short, quick breaths, trying to get oxygen in without spewing a lung or two out. His head throbbed painfully against the bench seat that he found himself lying on in the cab as his heart pounded steadily in his chest, and almost every inch of his formerly dry shirt was now soaked through from either snow or sweat. He didn't think he had anything left in him, and was sure all he really wanted to do was just curl up and quietly pass away right here…until he heard the dog barking. The barking that was coming from inside the house. That killer dog must be inside the house. Inside the house that Sam and Bobby were in.

"Story of my life; can't even roll over die when I want too," he half-heartedly grumbled as he forced himself onto his side and reached for the glove box. Cracking a small smile when he saw what he was pretty sure would be there, he reached his shaking hand in and pulled out one of Bobby's favorite, fully loaded Glock 22s. Resting innocently underneath the battle ready weapon was one of Bobby's razor sharp knives, also ready for action at a moment's notice. Fully armed with a weapon in each hand, he slid back out of the truck and onto the snow again, letting his body sag against the side for just a minute to let the haziness that had suddenly crept into his head when he moved a little too fast clear itself out. "You better still be alive in there Sammy, or I swear I'm gonna kill you."

Laying with his stomach and chest against the frigid ground, he studied the entire house from one end to the other, trying to figure out the best way of getting inside without hopefully being discovered, and decided his only obvious choice was through the entrance to the cellar at the back of the house. He'd seen it when he had accidentally introduced himself to the poor, unfortunate Mr. Moore, and from his fuzzy recollection, he didn't remember seeing it locked. Nothing but a bungee cord wrapped around the handles was keeping those doors closed, and access would be more than easy.

Crawling back exactly the way he had come through the small trench he'd made on the excursion there, he shielded himself behind the barn once again and inched his way down to the farthest end before turning the corner cautiously, mindful of stepping over the former man of the house to avoid another face to face that his lungs probably couldn't take. The sheer size and position of the barn kept him hidden from view where he was, and as he finally made it to the corner of the structure that was closest to the house he took in one short, quick breath before attempting what he honestly didn't think he could or should do, but had to try anyway.

He sprinted the distance between the two dwellings in the fastest speed he could handle without stopping until he safely reached the porch at the back door. His chest burned with what felt like the fires of hell, every new breath he tried to take in meeting with some sort of resistance now until he could no longer contain the fresh round of hacking that broke out after repeated attempts at air intake threatened to start what he now couldn't stop once the fluid that had so mercilessly built up in his lungs again was coming out with ease until he didn't even need to cough to bring it up anymore, the simple act of exhaling did that job quite well now.

He was determined to stay on his feet though, and instead of collapsing on the porch in an overheated heap, he bent over at the waist, pressed his hands on his knees and steadied himself by resting his ass against the door, praying every noise he made had gone unheard as he felt the warm sweat dripping from his brow. Minutes passed without any sounds coming from anywhere but him and when his head finally cleared and he could stand again, he marveled at the bloody mess he'd left behind in various places. There were no more greens or browns mingled in with the pink anymore, now it was just all red. Wiping his lower lip on the back of his hand, he couldn't help but notice that same crimson color streaked on his own skin, and he just shrugged as he wiped it away on his jeans with one quick swipe. At least he could breathe again now that he'd emptied the contents of his lungs out, at least a little anyway.

Not wanting to go in blindly, he peered through the glass in the door to get somewhat of an inkling of the layout of the place. Beyond the kitchen, which is what he was obviously staring at, he saw nothing but a closed door. He had no idea what the rest of the house looked like inside and at this point it probably didn't matter, he just needed to get in there, find his brother and Bobby, and Iliana for that matter too, and get them the hell out. He was half tempted to try the doorknob to see if he could easily gain access to the house until he saw the door to the kitchen that led to the inner spaces of the home start to open, the brief glimpse of blonde hair he did actually catch with his blurry eyes enough to make him drop to the ground and roll off the tiny porch and cower underneath it.

He heard the outer door creak open and watched through an opening in the slats as Sam's captor stepped out into the cold with nothing more on than a light sweater and a tight pair of jeans to scan the area, her face indicating she had heard something as her eyes darted from left to right like an animal searching for its hunter. Even with his blurry vision he recognized her and the sight of her face made his blood want to boil. Dean wanted nothing more than to just shoot her now and end the entire ordeal, but until he knew who, or what, exactly she was he just couldn't do that yet. The sight of blood spattered on her hands and upper arms made that awfully hard though as his finger started twitching on the trigger and had she not jumped down from the porch he probably would have just gone ahead and pulled it.

He dropped himself down to ground level and continued watching her as she walked the length of the house, seeing nothing but her calves and feet and realized she had on no shoes, which he found very strange since she was walking undaunted through icy cold snow. He let the thought go as he spied her turn the corner and disappear around the side of the house and decided it was time to make a move. He rolled out from under his cover and slowly crawled up onto the porch, opting to try the door just for the sake of ease and met no resistance when he turned the knob. The door drifted open with what sounded almost like a groan and before Dean could even realize what he was doing, he had slipped inside and shut it behind him.

The kitchen was small and somewhat dark with the only light illuminating it coming from the small window in the door he'd just passed through and he quietly crossed the less than adequate space in a very short distance to reach that door that led to the rest of the house. He crossed his fingers as he pushed the swinging door open just enough to see what was beyond it and cursed when his eyes fell onto nothing but a wall and another door and since all he could see inside that room was a toilet, he knew he'd at least found a bathroom should he need one. He hoped that she was still outside as he slid his body through the small opening he'd made, pretty sure she was working solo by what Iliana had told him but not wanting to make any more noise than he already had and give his position away should she not be.

The hall in front of him wasn't long, but it was narrow and he tiptoed down it silently as he pressed his back against the wall, telling himself it was for stealth but knowing it was really for support. His steps were slow and careful now that he seemed to be having issues keeping his vision straight, and he had to pause briefly between each step to allow his eyes to correct themselves somewhat. The farther down the hall he went, the brighter everything seemed to get until he finally came to a wide open space filled with glaring sunlight and for a second it seemed to blind him and nearly threw him off balance when he tried to shield his eyes.

When the black spots that were doing a frenzied dance in front of his retinas finally seemed to run out of music and took their seats somewhere away from his head, he took a good, long look around the room. The walls were bare, the furniture had been pushed to the sides, and there was a huge fire burning in the fireplace that graced the farthest wall. The room felt cold, even with that roaring fire to warm the space, and as Dean looked up, he quickly figured out why. Continuing to move slowly down the wall, part of the room that was still blocked from his view started coming into focus and from what he could see so far, he was alone. With his gun raised and ready, he took a few more cautious steps in as he quickly scanned the room before stopping dead in his tracks when he saw what he couldn't believe he was seeing.

Sam and Bobby were bound to the wall behind them like they were being crucified for their sins, gagged to ensure neither one of them could speak and worst of all, covered in blood. Sprawled out at his brother's feet was the blood-soaked, lifeless body of Iliana and Dean was convinced she had to be dead. There was too much blood around her for her not to be. Making a move forward as he shifted his gaze from Sam to Bobby then back to Sam, he froze as his eyes met Sam's horrified stare and his little brother immediately looked from Dean to the floor before training his eyes back on him like he was trying to tell him something without being able to say a word.

Dean turned his head to see what Sam had been trying to wordlessly communicate to him and stared in total shock at what was on the floor as he unconsciously started drifting towards it to get a better look. He somehow knew he had seen it before, a long time ago, but couldn't quite remember where or when. The closer he got though, the harder his heart pounded in his chest as his mind tried to remember what it had so desperately wanted to forget. Standing just outside the circle of what was clearly a devil's trap ringed in very old, dried blood, he suddenly couldn't breathe when he caught sight of the large stain in the center, everything came flooding back in all at once and all he could do was turn his head to look at the elder hunter before he crumpled to his knees.

"Bobby," he whispered the man's name as he landed hard on the floor and grasped his head in his hands as he just started shaking, the pounding inside it nearly unbearable as he waited for all the details to finish falling into place. One by one the recollections bore through his head and stabbed him directly in the heart; the game of concentration his brain was playing all on its own making him oblivious to the fact that he was once again spewing blood all over the floor.

The only thing that brought him even close to some kind of reality was the sounds of Sam bucking and jerking with all the strength he had against the wall supports he'd been fixed to in a frantic attempt at freeing himself once he saw his brother's inevitable collapse. That, and Isabel fast approaching him as he fell on his side and quivered.

"Welcome Dean, so glad you could join us. We've been waiting for you," she grinned as she bent down next to him and stoked his burning forehead. "You remember now, don't you?"

Fueled by instinct alone, he said nothing as he quickly raised the gun he still had clutched in his hand and pulled the trigger without barely aiming and watched as the bullet it projected tore a hole in her head right between her eyes. She fell to the floor in a bloodless heap as the sound of the discharge somehow forced Dean to his feet. Staggering in his brother's direction, he took all of three steps when out of nowhere he was confronted by the cold, black eyes of Ilsa as she dropped from the ceiling like a cat and stood directly in his path. He'd been so stunned by the sight of her black eyes that he couldn't stop his stumble and fall backwards, but as he headed to the ground once again, he was caught in the waiting arms of Isabel, who was now holding him tight against her as she whispered in his ear.

"That wasn't very nice Dean, was it?" She scolded, and he could barely get a word out when he realized there were two of them, and they weren't just witches. They were demons, and they all three of them were probably screwed. He had no energy to fight them and he just let his body go lax in her crushing arms.

"What did you do to them?" He finally spit out after a long moment of silence, each woman waiting for him to ask before offering anything up.

"Well, Sam there was being a little belligerent and a tad defiant, so we just decided to show him who was boss. Nothing like a few shots to the head to make someone curb their tongue. As for Bobby, well, we just wanted to beat the crap out of him for the fun of it. Payback's a bitch, right?" Ilsa answered him as Isabel just enjoyed feeling the heat emanating from him as she hung on to his burning body.

"What do you want from them?" He muttered, not even bothering to put up a struggle.

"Who said anything about them? Why, it's you Dean. We want you," she crooned softly in his ear.

"Then let them go," he begged as he fixed his stare on his brother, who was clearly screaming 'NO' with the glare he returned.

"Oh, we'll let them both go, just as soon as you agree to our terms," Ilsa taunted with a smirk.

"Whatever you want, I'll do whatever you want, please, just don't hurt them anymore and let them leave," he pleaded as he stared at Iliana's corpse on the floor. He was convinced that would be Sam and Bobby's fate soon if he didn't do exactly what they wanted, and at this point he would agree to just about anything if it would save them.

"Are you sure you mean that before you even know what we're asking for?" She questioned one final time and grinned from ear to ear when he finally collapsed.

"What is it you want?" He breathed out, barely able to stay conscious anymore.

"I thought you'd never ask."


	13. Chapter 13

Unlucky Chapter 13

"I thought you'd never ask," she crooned as he'd asked it.

Ilsa watched as the fevered, glassy eyes that had been staring at her in what could only be described as a look of utter defeat went totally unfocused and started to roll back into his head as they shuddered before slowly drifted closed. He was almost at the point of no return and both women knew it. Ilsa could see it in the haggard appearance of his face and his sluggish body language while Isabel could feel it in the way he went limp and nearly lifeless against her and clearly unable to support his own weight anymore.

"Wake up and pay attention when you're being spoken to," Isabel snapped at Dean sharply as she wrapped a hand firmly around his throat and gave it a light squeeze, not clenching enough to cut off what little air he was already struggling to take in but strong enough to let him know she could break his neck at anytime, if she really wanted to. She was supporting all of his weight since he'd crumpled and fallen fully against her and nearly passed out, but the menacing tone of her voice made his eyes snap open wide from the nearly closed state they'd almost ended up in. "It's rude to fall asleep when people are talking to you."

"I'll try to remember that the next time I'm ready to pass out from lack of oxygen," he mumbled back at her with barely any emotion in the words.

"You know Dean, before you actually say you'll do whatever we want, you should really consider exactly what that could entail," Ilsa teased as she slowly paced the floor between Bobby and Sam, eyeing each one as she passed with those horrid, black orbs. "I mean, come on…the possibilities of that are simply mind-boggling, aren't they? Let's say, for instance, that we can save your precious Sam here from what's sure to be a very dark future. What would something like that be worth to you Dean? "

"Lady, you don't have that kind of power and we both know it," he matter-of-factly stated, knowing damn well she was not that high up on the demonic food chain to be throwing around those kinds of offers. If there was one thing Dean knew for sure about demons, it was the fact that the black-eyed ones always answered to a higher power.

"That may be true, but we both have something the other one wants so I'm willing to bet we can work something out that would be mutually beneficial. After all, I do have friends in high places. You know how it is, you wash my back and I'll wash yours."

"Ok, that was a mental image I could have totally gone without," he did his best to sound defiant, but every minute that went by made it harder and harder to fight, not that he was fighting much to begin with. Now, it was more like stalling. "I'm picturing it's all hairy and…"

"Alright, that's enough small talk. We don't have all day, as you well know. Do you want to hear what we have to offer you, or should we just eviscerate all three of you now like our poor 'mom' sprawled out there on the floor at Sam's feet?" Ilsa threatened, her tone turning deadly serious.

"I'm all ears," Dean responded quickly, then fell silent and waited for her to finally get to the point.

"I couldn't help but notice how you went a little weak in the knees when you got a good look at what was on the floor, didn't you?" She started and even with the fever that was burning hot throughout his entire body, the memories it had brought back made him go deathly pale.

They weren't actual details, not really; just the vague memory of watching his father paint that devil's trap on the floor of some rundown shack they had been in together a very long time ago, but by his less than vague recollection, it had been white when he'd been painting it, not the dirty, nasty brownish black it was now. He remembered that and remembered being sick, really sick like he was right now, and not bothering to tell his father for fear of being left out…but left out of what is the one memory he couldn't seem to bring back, no matter how hard he tried. What had caused his collapse at the sight of the floor though had been the large, dark stain nearly in the center that had somehow caused his chest to tighten and his ribs to start aching.

Somehow that brought back a memory of a dark mist hovering over him before disappearing as his body went cold and numb, then his father taking its place at his side and whispering something that sounded oddly like a request for forgiveness in his ear before he felt the excruciating, nearly heart stopping jolt of pain that tore through his entire body as a warm, sticky sensation crept down his side, and he wanted nothing more than to pass out at that very moment. Someone must have mercifully granted his wish when he saw everything start to go dark and he could remember nothing else from that point on, other than the fact that even though it was still early in the day, it was black as night inside and out. The last thing he remembered seeing before falling into total oblivion was the full moon completely blotting out the bright day's sun and his father's watery, bloodshot eyes over him, and if he didn't know better, he'd thought he was crying.

"Taking a trip down memory lane Dean?" Ilsa asked him after his long moment of silence appeared to have no end. She could see he was running thoughts through his head as fast as his clouded mind would allow, but she just didn't have the time to wait for his muddied brain to piece everything back together. She knew that if she gave him enough time he would do just that, but time was a luxury they didn't have at the moment. "Mind if I take that walk with you to guide you in the right direction?"

"Do I have a choice?" Dean finally spoke, his question prompted by the fact that it didn't matter what he said, she was going to painfully refresh his memory whether he liked it or not.

Ignoring his question, she began her monologue, trying her best to keep it short, sweet, and directly to the point. "It's been nearly ten years Dean, ten long years since your father and Bobby over there banished our father to hell under the darkness of an eclipse just like this one for what they thought would be the rest of eternity. Eternity… that really is a long time, isn't it? In all those years of Bobby teaching you various lore, did he ever mention that little aspect of the eclipse to you? Sure, he told you about all the other possibilities that can occur under something so powerful, but did he ever actually cover that one in his lessons?"

Turning her attention briefly to Bobby, who was still firmly plastered against the wall and staring at both her and Dean in shock, she glared at him for a mere second before going on, "I'm betting you didn't, did you Bobby? No, that would run the risk of poor Dean here remembering something from that day that you and John tried so admirably to hide and that just couldn't happen, ever. Then Dean would know what his dear old dad had done to him."

She stared the older man down as she addressed him while she reached for one of the daggers still buried in the floor before turning her full attention back to Dean and for the briefest of moments Dean actually remembered Bobby being there at his side when that pain tore through him that day too, remembered Bobby nearly begging his father not to do it…not to do something…but do what? He struggled to remember what it was that his father had done but as more hazy thoughts tried coming into focus, they were driven away just as quickly when she decided to continue her rant instead of letting him concentrate.

"John and Bobby drove our father back down to the depths of hell under that eclipse that day and we plan on bringing him back under this one. That's where you come in. You see, he needs a body to return to and he really wants yours," she told him, and his response that cut her off was nearly instantaneous.

"No…never," he insisted. "I'll never be some demon's bitch, I'd rather die first."

The ferocity of his response had surprised her, but she wasn't done yet, she still had plenty more to say that would break him down and she fully intended on saying it. "You'd die first, huh? Funny you should say that. You do know he's been in there before, inside of you, but I guess you don't really remember that, do you? He hid himself in there from your father, figuring he'd be safe until the moon passed by and the danger to him was over. He didn't think John would ever do anything to hurt you, but man, had he been wrong. Your father, well, do you remember what he did? Do you remember how John heartlessly drove him out of your sick and tortured body?"

She smiled as she waved the dagger she had clutched in her hand before his barely open eyes, speaking to him in an almost sympathetic tone and watching his face lose all the color that his excessive body heat had returned in full force to his cheeks again, the color that had nearly drained itself dry when she'd first started speaking and was now rapidly making it's escape once again as his hand drifted to his side and his fingers searched for and found that old scar he knew was there. That was when the memory finally struck him down like a bolt of lightning, and even Isabel couldn't stop his final fall to the floor, nor did she want to. She let him drop hard and watched him curl into a ball and shiver as he landed, the recollection of his father driving that dagger deep inside of him almost more than he could take.

"He said I…he told me that…oh god, he didn't…" Dean stammered through heavy breaths. Breathing was becoming harder and harder with each painful inhalation he tried to take and he was starting to wonder why he was even bothering to attempt it anymore. "Bobby…no…he couldn't have…"

"He lied to you Dean, and Bobby kept his little secret to himself for all these years. Banishing the demon he thought killed your mother was more important to him then your own life was and he proved that when he nearly killed you driving him out. He thought if he banished Belial to hell forever that little Sammy would be safe and he sacrificed you to do it. Little did he know it wasn't Belial that burned your mother alive and wants your brother so bad he'd kill anyone to get him."

"Belial…**the** Belial…" Dean muttered as the gravity of the entire situation came fully into focus. These women weren't kidding when they said they had friends in high places. Next to Lucifer himself, Belial was as high as they came, at least that had been what he'd been taught and he had no reason to doubt it. "What is it you want from me?"

"A trade. Your body for Sam's life. You release our father from the prison John and Bobby sent him to and willingly give yourself to Belial as his host and we'll let Sam live…and Bobby too, I guess. Come on Dean, look at yourself. Your body barely has any life left in it anyway."

"And if I say no," he questioned even though he had a pretty good idea what the consequences would be.

"We'll just kill you all and let god sort you out," Ilsa responded with that sick smile.

"Yeah, well, you may be able to kill me and Bobby, but I think Old Yellow Eyes may have something to say about you taking out Sam," he tried to defiantly tell her, but she was prepared for that argument as well. Dropping to her knees on the floor next to him, she took the direction Dean had decided to twist the conversation towards and took off with it. She'd been waiting for him to bring it up and now that he had she began telling him exactly what he would need to hear to make up his mind.

"I'm glad you brought that up Dean. Speaking of 'Old Yellow Eyes', as you so fondly call him, would it sway your decision any if you knew Belial could protect Sam from that fate only you know he's destined for? Your brother is a source of immense power that he has yet to realize. Oh, if you only knew the things Sam is capable of, it would terrify you. Yellow Eyes knows that and will stop at nothing to have that power on his side in his upcoming attempt at mutiny against the powers that be. It's why he tainted Sam and all the others like him in the first place, leaving him untouchable to the rest of us." She paused in her thoughts for a moment and let what she had already said sink into Dean's head before she continued. "We may not be able to stake a claim on your brother, but we sure can stop that bastard from taking what he thinks is rightfully his. Picture it Dean, Sam living that normal life he's always wished for with a wife, two cars, 2.3 kids, maybe a dog or two nestled peacefully behind a white picket fence. All that and you never have to fulfill that promise you were forced to make to kill your brother if you couldn't save him that your father forced on you right before died to save you."

"How do I know you're telling me the truth? Demon's lie, it's what you do. What guarantee do I have that you'll let my brother and Bobby go?"

"I guess you'll just have to take our word for it. Besides, what have you really got to lose? Your half dead already and it won't take much to slit Sam and Bobby's throats and release Belial with your blood ourselves. Willing hosts are a dime a dozen and we'll find one eventually, but you're the one he really wants. Freedom for Sam to live a normal, happy life in exchange for yours and he may even occasionally let you see him, from a distance of course. You want to see your baby brother happy, don't you? Come on Dean, time's a wasting, what's it going to be…yes or no?"

Forcing himself onto his back and staring at the ceiling, he made his decision easily when the vision of Sam having a home and a family flashed in his mind like some happily vivid hallucination. He couldn't bear to look at his brother or Bobby, but forced himself to anyway as he made the briefest of eye contact with them both before he answered Ilsa and prayed he was doing the right thing.

"Yes…" he answered in a hushed tone and the instant the word came from his lips, Iliana's red eyes opened wide.

"Oh Dean, you don't know how happy you've made us," she oozed as she rose from the floor to stand and walked over to him, the enthusiasm in her voice as he stared into her blood red eyes that were firmly fixed on him making him somewhat sick to his stomach. He should have been surprised at the sight, but somehow wasn't when he heard her voice because it was just his luck that she was one of them and the red eyes just proved his earlier point. Those two black-eyed whores did answer to someone else, her, and Iliana obviously answered to their master.

"Let them go and I'll do whatever you want," he tried to bargain with her without much of a leg to stand on. He had no intentions of doing anything until Sam and Bobby were long gone, he promised himself that much, but Iliana had other plans.

"I'm sorry Dean, but we can't let them go just yet," she informed him casually. "We still need them for one more little thing. You see that ring of old, dried blood around that even older devil's trap your precious father painted? Well, that was made by John and Bobby's blood. The only way to break the seal that binds Belial to hell is by breaking the circle with that very same blood. You do that, and we'll let them go as promised. It's not negotiable Dean, so don't bother arguing either."

"How the hell am I supposed to do that? My father's dead and gone in case you hadn't noticed. I think that well is a little dried up," Dean stated what should be obvious, but he feared there was more to it than his father just being dead. Somehow that didn't seem to matter, or none of them would be there right now.

"Oh Dean, so naïve, so blind to what should be painfully apparent, "she said as she bent down beside him and gently took him by the arm, effortlessly bringing him to his feet like he was a feather on the wind as Ilsa placed the dagger in his lax hand and wrapped his fingers around it tight to make him grip it. He shuddered at the feel of the cold metal against his skin and wanted nothing more than to bury the vile weapon in Iliana's neck and be rid of it when he realized exactly where it had been. She felt him tense in her grasp and somehow knew exactly what he was thinking as she squeezed his forearm painfully hard and nearly breaking it before she tossed him a soft, gentle warning. "Don't bother, it won't hurt me and my blood will do you no good. Bobby's and John's only, but since we don't have John's, yours and Sam's combined will just have to do."

"No way, that's not part of the deal. You promised you'd let them go, you never said you'd let them go dead!"

"Who said anything about killing them? I'm not asking you to splay them open like the carcass of a fresh dear you've been hunting in the woods, I simply want you to open their palms and coat the blade with their blood. Bobby first, then Sam, then yourself. I am a demon of my word Dean; I will let them go as promised as soon as you fulfill your end of the bargain. Time is short, so let's get on with it please. As you can see, it's starting to get dark already."

Iliana relaxed her grip on Dean's arm and waited for him to gain some balance before letting go fully and nudged him gently in Bobby's direction. He stumbled forward carefully, his gait slow and very unsteady as he forced one foot in front of the other. By the time he reached Bobby, he could barely stay up on his feet and had to rest for a moment to catch his breath before continuing, bracing himself against Bobby's own body to keep himself from falling over. The older hunter cringed at the contact when he felt the intense heat pouring from Dean's body and felt how soaked in sweat he was and he knew full well that unless there was some kind of divine intervention here, it would probably be the last time he felt anything warm come from the young man ever again.

"Get on with it Dean," she ordered, her patience severely taxed as she watched his painfully slow actions and he jumped when he heard the tone now that he was starting to fall asleep on his feet.

Unable to look the man he admired almost as much as his own father in the eyes, Dean raised the knife and pressed it into Bobby's open right palm and with one quick swipe split the skin wide as the blood started to flow, coating the blade in the flow. Satisfied he'd gotten enough of Bobby's life fluid covering the blade; he turned and slowly dragged himself in Sam's direction. Once again, he could not make eye contact and focused his blurry vision on his brother's hand instead. Sam had clenched both hands into tight fists and Dean did his best to pry the fingers open, but he just didn't have the strength to budge his brother's iron grip.

"Sam, please don't fight me," he begged, still refusing to look into his brother's eyes as he doubled his efforts to open Sam's hand which only made Sam clench his fist in tighter death grip as he dug his own nails into his palms and jerked against his restraints. Dean was done fighting him and finally decided to meet the harsh glare he could feel was locked hard on his own face as he slipped the tip of the dagger between Sam's fingers and palm. He only held his little brother's stare for a second before he forced himself to turn away, unable to look at the tears that were streaming freely down his cheeks. "I'm sorry Sammy, please forgive me."

The second the words came from his mouth, Dean drove the dagger up and into his brother's still clenched fist, the action not only opening the flesh of his palm but all four fingers as well. Blood dripped at a steady pace from the clenched hand and Dean let it drop onto both sides of the knife until it was coated in Sam's blood right along with Bobby's, the two fluids mixed together into one. A dizzying wave of nausea washed over Dean and he fell hard to his knees. He stared at the floor where Sam's blood continued to land and it took all the strength he had left to crawl away from the little pool that was forming and back to the perimeter of the trap. He stopped when he was face to knees with Iliana, who towered over him from her standing position.

"Well done Dean, I didn't honestly think you had it in you," she praised. "All that's left is your own now. Break that circle from inside the trap and it will be done. A simple line of blood crossing it is all it takes Dean, and then your brother will be free."

Dean never hesitated; he just pressed the bloody dagger into his own palm and cut so deeply across his own skin that he was sure he'd probably sliced a tendon or two now that he could no longer force all of his fingers into a fist. His blood flowed freely from the gaping wound he'd made in his hand and instead of letting it drip to the floor, he slapped his palm hard against the circle and smeared his blood across the barrier, making the break he'd been instructed to. No sooner had he drew his crimson line had the floor opened wide in the center and glowed a fiery red as the room continued going darker still, now that the moon nearly covered the entire sun and the next thing he knew there was a dark mist hovering there directly before him. If it had eyes, he would swear it was staring at him and he could not control the shaking his body had uncontrollably started.

"Let them go…now," he barely got out as he stared at the dark mist first, then at Iliana next, who was standing just outside the perimeter and out of his reach.

"I will, but there's just one more thing you need to do Dean. You need to open yourself up and let Belial in. As soon as you do that, Sam will be free."

"You're really starting to piss me off lady," Dean groaned as the dark cloud waited patiently over him.

"Dean Winchester, have you come here of your own free will and do you willingly give yourself to Belial, our master? Answer yes or no," she asked as he fell completely to floor and went limp.

"Yeah, sure, my own free will…whatever," he mumbled, desperate for this torture to be over.

"Then open yourself up and let him in. Drive that dagger deep into the spot that your father drove him out from the first time and it will all be over and you will be at peace."

Lying on his back and shaking nearly uncontrollably now as the heaviness in his chest rumbled every time he attempted draw in air, he tried to stare through the ceiling with his unfocused eyes as he struggled with each new breath and trained his gaze at the now nearly black sky above him. Dean ran the bloody tip of the dagger across his ribs until he felt it hit the dead, hard scar tissue he now knew why he'd really had there and without a second thought he buried the knife to the hilt deep into his own body without so much as a scream or a whimper and closed his eyes as blood spewed from his lips and side, his body ready and waiting to die.


	14. Chapter 14

A/N:Sorry for the posting delay, sometimes real life gets in the way. Thanks for all the great comments too. I know I said I would get better at responding to them, but I guess I'm still pretty lax at that. Sorry to all and thanks to everyone that reads, I truly love you all!!

Chapter 14

Sam watched the scene before him, never more helpless or hopeless than he'd ever felt in his entire life as Dean's body twitched and jerked spasmodically a few times before going deathly still and try as desperately hard as he may, he couldn't tell if his brother was still breathing or not. He couldn't see if his chest was rising and falling, he didn't hear the clearly audible rumbling wheeze that had been coming from his throat earlier as he drew in air anymore and as he watched the dark cloud hovering over him that was ready to expel every last ounce of what was left of Dean's soul out of the dying body on the floor to take up residence inside, he'd finally wrestled his mouth free of the thick gray tape that had been wrapped around his face and head enough to scream his brother's name as the ominous mist advanced on his mortally wounded brother.

"DEAN! OH GOD, PLEASE BE ALIVE, PLEASE DON'T BE DEAD! GET UP AND MOVE! DON'T DO THIS! I DON'T WANT THIS! DON'T LET THEM HAVE YOU! GET OUT OF THERE!" He screamed over and over as loudly as he could, but his voice fell on totally deaf ears.

All Dean could see was the dark demon cloud hovering over him as it seemingly waited for him to die and all he could hear was the sound of his own heart beating in his ears, his heart that was pumping harder and harder in an effort to keep up with his bodies demand for blood that just seemed to detour out through the hole he himself had just made in his own side instead of continuing its long trek all the way around and back to his heart where it had started from. The louder he heard the hard, unsteady pounding, the warmer and stickier he felt the fluid draining against his ribs and down his jeans become and he knew it wouldn't be long before he bled to death, if suffocation didn't do him in first. He could only pray that his brother, whom he'd sacrificed himself for, couldn't see the agony he had been trying so hard to hide since driving that filthy dagger into his body and hoped Death would hurry up and be quick about finishing him off.

Iliana stood at Dean's feet just outside the trap and watched as Belial's demonic, ethereal form descended upon him, but she couldn't hide her confusion when he just floated over Dean's ravaged body but made no effort to enter and take control of the extraordinary offering she'd worked so tirelessly to acquire for him. Nearly ten years of watching and waiting had come down to this and now it seemed to her that her winning prize was no longer acceptable to him anymore, which made no sense to her as Dean was the one he had instructed her to obtain in the first place.

"Belial, why do you not accept the offer Dean has made to you? He has agreed to give himself willingly yet you decline to take what is now rightfully yours," she spoke to the dark haze still hanging over Dean that seemed to be getting darker and darker with each word she spoke to it. It had no voice, but it seemed to be able to communicate with her without one and as she continued the seemingly one sided conversation, it appeared to be becoming rather heated.

"What do you mean, you can't take him? Of course you can…he has come here of his own accord, willingly agreed to become your slave, his body was prepared with the proper herbs and roots not once but twice for good measure, and he has reopened the wound that drove you out the first time to let you back in without hesitation. Why on earth can you not take him?" She was nearly screaming at the cloud as it became darker and blacker with every passing moment as if it was becoming more and more enraged as she insisted she had done everything exactly as it had been called for, which she knew she had but obviously somehow hadn't.

"He did what?!" She exclaimed when she realized what Belial was silently telling her and now she was furious. All of her insidious plotting and planning had come down to this very moment and it was all going to be for naught if she didn't do something, and do it quickly. "I've still got time…Ilsa, go to the barn and get the remainder of the…"

Her words were cut off quite abruptly by the sound of a very heavy boot coming in contact with the front door in a rather aggressive manner, the somewhat immovable object of the barrier to the outside world being no match for the irresistible force of the foot shattering the wood into chunks and splinters that were sent hurtling in every direction imaginable. Sam couldn't see her from his position, but Bobby could and if his mouth wasn't securely closed by the tape wrapped around it, it would have dropped open as he gaped in awe at what he saw crossing the threshold and coming inside. She was momentarily blue-eyed with long, beautifully flowing blonde curls and if he didn't know better, Bobby would swear Iliana also had a twin, except this face was older; more the face of a mother than a sister, right down to the blue eyes that had suddenly turned a nasty blood red color and Bobby somehow knew he'd finally met the last of the Moore's as she addressed them all.

"Things not quite working out the way you planned them ladies? Oh, and I use that term loosely," she asked her question, very obviously directing it at Iliana and it was extremely apparent that she was stunned by what, or rather who, it was she was seeing before her that had just barged her way inside to rain on her parade.

Iliana's momentary shock would be exactly the distraction she would need and as the younger woman stared at the older one in awe, the blonde intruder that had been seemingly sent to provide some kind of intervention on the Winchesters' behalf took total advantage of her lapse in sense to drive an elbow directly into Iliana's face as she rushed her, sending her stumbling awkwardly backwards as her arms started flailing, the stumble that turned into a tumble and fall when her feet twisted up with Dean's and she landed hard against the floor in the center of the trap. The nearly blood-curdling scream that erupted from Dean as her legs came down even harder on his already damaged ribs as her feet connected with the handle of the dagger that was still somewhat visible to drive it in just a little bit further was not exactly the way Sam wanted to be made aware that his brother was indeed still alive, but at this point, he would take whatever he could get.

"Ooh, I'll bet that smarts," the nameless blonde demon woman said as she scrunched up her face in mock agony and turned her attention to Sam as she pointed at him with the index finger of one hand and Bobby with the other and with the flick of each one of those fingers both men fell to the floor, nearly colliding head to head with one other as the sudden lack of restraint sent both of their stiff bodies falling as gravity undauntedly took over. "Sam, why don't you get your ass over here and help your brother out."

As stiff and sore as he was from over a day and a half with absolutely no movement other than his fingers and toes, Sam forced himself to his feet and crossed the room in less time than it took for his heart to get back the beat it had skipped when he realized he was free from the binds that held him to the wall. His heart pounded in his chest as he scrambled to reach his brother, the only thing stopping him dead in his tracks was the sound of Bobby's panicked voice calling out from the floor behind him.

"Do not enter that trap Sam! You drag him out first!" The older hunter nearly screamed as Sam almost broke the barrier surrounding the two demons that were trapped inside but stopped before any part of him crossed the line and as quickly as he could, he grabbed one of his brother's ankles and jerked him hard towards him until he was clear of the dark ring that now contained not only Belial but Iliana as well.

An overwhelming sense of déjà vu flooded all of Bobby's senses as he dragged himself to Sam's side while Sam slid his arm as quickly but gently as he possibly could under his brother's limp and lifeless body pulling him up into his lap while resting his totally lax head against his chest. His eyes went wide as he cradled Dean's bloody form against his own when he felt the extremely dangerous amount of body heat he was generating and the crimson spatter on his lips and chin. Dean's breathing was nearly non-existent, the occasional attempt at inhalation loud and harsh, but at least it was there and Sam couldn't do anything but stare in shock at his brother's emotionlessly pale face. Even with the blood covering Dean's lips, Bobby could see they were starting to turn a slight shade of blue.

Bobby could also see the anguish written all over Sam's face and knew that look consuming Sam's eyes, it was the same look he'd seen in John's when they'd been thrust into this exact situation years ago and he felt like he was reliving that day all over again, only somehow the outcome didn't seem like it would be going the same way. This time he honestly didn't think there would be a happy ending. The sound of heavy footsteps coming at them fast brought him to his senses and as he fought to control the tears that he could feel were welling in his eyes as he watched Dean slowly die, he looked up at the creamy smooth face staring down at him. She would have looked angelic if it hadn't been for those disturbing red eyes.

"Who are you?" Bobby questioned the woman as he watched her approach them with her hands locked firmly on her hips and a definitive purpose etched in her mind. Sam paid her no attention, he just sat there on the floor rocking Dean in his lap like a baby and whispering something into his ear that Bobby couldn't hear, praying he'd get some sort of response, which he didn't.

"Does it really matter who I am? Let's just say that the Winchesters and I have a mutual acquaintance that would have been, shall we say, very disappointed had this little agreement actually been reached," she answered, then proceeded to jerk both men back to the real world. They were far from finished here but at the moment, she was the only one that knew that yet. "Pay attention boys, time is short and there's only one way out of this mess. Do you really want them coming after you when the next eclipse comes? Or coming after your children when they can't get to you Sam? Or your children's children, because believe me, they'll keep coming, relentlessly until they get what they want."

"No, we don't," Sam answered for both of them unexpectedly, that last question she'd asked finally pulling his mind from its stupor and he was now fully focused on every word she said. "What do we have to do?"

"Bobby, do you remember the exact words to the banishment ritual?" She asked quickly as she watched the few shadows that were left creeping across the floor nearly in their position.

"How could I forget them?" Bobby stated, knowing those words would be burned into his memory until the end of time.

"Good, because you have about seven minutes to exorcise that bitch out of that body she's in and send both of them back to hell where they belong. All she wanted was to be together with her beloved Belial again, so I say, give them what they want," she informed them both as Iliana's ranting and raving behind them went totally ignored by them all. She could curse all she liked, she wasn't going anywhere. Neither one of them would be going anywhere, except straight down.

"We can't perform the banishment like this. In case you hadn't noticed, those knives aren't exactly cleansed and blessed the way they need to be, are they?" Bobby sighed, the fleeting hope that there might actually be a way out of this mess gone as quickly as it came.

"So cleanse them and bless them Bobby. I know you know how," she retorted, her tone actually positive and upbeat.

"I can't, I'm not…"

"You're not what? You don't need to be anyone special, you just need to believe. Hell, even Sam here can cleanse and bless them, he believes enough for all three of you. All you need is a rosary and some holy water. It's not that difficult. There's a rosary in that desk over there in the corner…top drawer, you can't miss it and I know you've got holy water in your pocket Bobby, you always do. Tricky men you hunters are, keeping it in those flasks of yours to make it look like whiskey. Just like the one in Dean's pocket there. The flask that he downed some Tylenol with before he showed up here. Good thing Iliana's not as bright as she appears to be because if she'd known that thing had had holy water in it instead of booze, she never would have left it in Dean's pocket for him to take a swig from. Poor Belial, couldn't get inside with the holy water running it's course through Dean's veins, could he?" She sneered as she stole a glance in Iliana's direction who had now finally gone silent.

"I'll do it, I know how," Sam coldly stated as he felt nothing but hatred against the two beings stuck in that trap across the room and he wanted nothing more then to rid the world of both of them, especially after what she had done to Dean, who was quite possibly not leaving the house alive. "You do the exorcism while I take care of the knife. I want them gone Bobby, for good."

"That's the spirit Sam. On that note, I'm afraid I must be going now, though I'd really love to stay and watch. I can't exactly be hanging around while you and Father Damien here do your thing, can I? Besides, I've got some unfinished business with Ilsa and Isabel. Leave it to the lackeys to cut and run at the first sign of trouble. Good luck boys, I'm sure I'll be seeing you around," she winked and smiled briefly before turning tail and running from the house, leaving both men to momentarily stare at one another in bewilderment as they tried to figure out what the hell had just happened.

"Bobby, can you get me the rosary from the desk?" Sam asked as he stole another glance at Dean's pasty white face and clutched him just a little bit tighter, fearing that if he let him go he'd not be alive when he came back. "I'll do what needs to be done, I'll make the circle of blood. You just get Dean out of here, please."

"Sam, you can't do this yourself. You'll bleed to death if you try," Bobby informed him. He knew what Sam was thinking and he didn't like it. He didn't think Dean would make it and he wasn't letting Sam end up the same way.

"I have to Bobby. We've only got one knife and if I remember your story correctly, once we use it, it's no good anymore. We don't have a choice, we'll kill him for sure if we try pulling that other one out of him to use it," Sam stated the facts that Bobby knew he couldn't deny.

"Then you get him out of here while I perform the ritual. I'm the only one that knows the words anyway," Bobby told Sam in return, taking the opportunity to present facts that Sam couldn't deny now.

"Sammy…" Dean's hushed voice interrupted them both and for a second, Sam thought he was hearing things until he looked down and saw that his brother's glassy, unfocused eyes were trying desperately to look at him. "…you're ok? All that blood…"

"It wasn't mine Dean, or Bobby's. They didn't touch us. It was a trick to get you to…" Sam told him and he could actually feel some kind of relief spread through him as Dean lay there in his arms barely breathing, barely moving, barely alive anymore.

"Good…I thought…Oh God Sam…I'm sorry…I just wanted…I thought…they said…" he tried to express what he was thinking to his baby brother but each time he made the effort to speak, his throat would clench up tight and he couldn't even take in the short, quick gasps his body had resorted to taking in anymore just to stay alive. He'd heard every word Sam and Bobby had said and had no intentions of letting his little brother bleed to death if he could help it. Resolving himself to the fact that he may not be able to save Sam from his evil fate, he knew he could at least save Sam from the moment, the moment that he had somehow created when he'd innocently tried to get rid of the throbbing in his head with some Tylenol that hadn't even worked, and before either one of them knew what was happening, Dean had wrapped his bloody hand around the handle of the knife embedded deep inside him and jerked it out hard and clean, the action causing fresh blood to paint his now dry lips as it sprayed from his mouth. Sam stared horrified at Dean when the long, anguished groan came from his lips as his body started to shake uncontrollably and with the last few ounces of strength he had left, Dean shoved the knife into Sam's hands and whispered the only thing he could think to say as his blood soaked Sam's legs and his eyes drifted shut. "Finish it Sam…"

End Notes:

Honest to god, this isn't a death fic...I promise! (I'm hiding behind a really big rock right now waiting for things to come flying my way...I'm not agile enough to dodge them today)


	15. Chapter 15

_Author's Notes: Please let me say first that I apologize for any inaccuracies in the Latin. I know absolutely nothing about the language aside from what I found on the internet. I would also like to apologize for not having this up yesterday as promised. We were nailed with some wicked thunderstorms Friday and had no power for the majority of the evening, which was totally fun as we all sat around playing candlelight Yahtzee but sucked having no computer access. Anyway, enough of my whining._

_I also find myself apologizing for my lack of attention at responding to reviews. Let's just agree that I'm a slacker but am eternally grateful for each and every one that takes the time to not only read but comment as well. My gratitude is endless!_

_Please also remember that this is not a deathfic, you have my word! I repeat...NOT A DEATHFIC!!_

Chapter 15

"Finish it Sam…" Dean quietly pleaded with his brother just before his eyes went entirely unfocused and as they rolled back into his head before drifting closed for what Sam prayed wouldn't be the last time, he was at least thankful that even though Dean's face had taken on the appearance of death, his body still trembled against him as the fever-induced chills that had overtaken him became nearly uncontrollable now. As much as it hurt him to see his brother endure so much pain and suffering because of him, he relished the fact that he could still feel the excessive body heat he continued to generate and would continue to as long as he was still alive, the shivering being caused by it the only indication he still took in any breath. If that shivering stopped, Sam knew it would be game over.

"Come on Sam, we need to move. We don't have much time left before that eclipse is over and we've only got one shot at this," Bobby prodded as he stood and started making his way back to the trap until Sam meekly asked him to stop.

"Wait Bobby," Sam told the older man as he dropped the knife he had clutched in his own bloody palm to the floor and struggled to sit Dean up gently without hurting him any more than he already was, if that was even possible. "Help me get his jacket off him. He's gonna be mad if there's blood all over it. You know it will never come out once it gets into the leather."

"Sam, we don't have time…" he started to tell him, but Sam just cut him off as he continued his aforementioned task undeterred.

"Bobby, please…just help me," Sam nearly begged and Bobby gave in, knowing it would be faster if he just helped Sam rather than argue with him, not knowing that Sam couldn't bring himself to dig through his brother's pockets in search of the flask containing the holy water he so desperately needed while the coat was still on his brother's body.

Sam eased Dean up into an almost seated position with a hand resting under his chin to prevent the heavy weight of his head from falling forward and wrenching his neck as Bobby tried pulling the sleeves off of the nearly unconscious man's limply hanging arms. The lining of the jacket that had been pressed against Dean's damaged side was already stained red as Bobby removed the coat and dropped it to the side, leaving Sam to rise into a crouch behind his brother, wrap his arms under Dean's and around his chest, and dragged him into the nearest corner to rest him against it, hoping the upright position would aid him in his efforts to continue breathing. His respiration was shallow and erratic, but thankfully still there and Sam was grateful to see that the bleeding from Dean's side had slowed to a near stop and the act of moving him the few feet across the floor hadn't started the free-flow back up.

Peeling off his own sweat soaked, blood stained jacket that he'd had on for nearly two days now from his mostly numb body, he just spread it out and draped it over his trembling brother like a blanket before turning and walking with a purpose across the room, angrily picking up both knives along the way. His face had taken on a mask of sheer rage as he approached the trap, but he said nothing as he walked right past it and over to the desk. Opening the top drawer of the escritoire their demonic savior had told them to, he immediately located exactly what he'd been told would be there. Grabbing the rosary and the bible it rested atop of, he slammed the drawer back shut with enough force to split the wood of the face as the handle fell harmlessly to the floor and turned back to Bobby, ready to begin.

"Give me your flask Bobby," Sam demanded like a heartless robot, unable to bring himself to touch his brother's soiled coat that lay discarded on the floor now that he not just suspected but actually knew it was soaked in his brother's blood. He'd seen the dark stain on the fabric, even if he pretended he hadn't.

Bobby dug through his own pockets quickly until he located the silver container that he did indeed always have on him at all times and silently handed it to the younger man without saying a word as they both went in separate directions. Bobby walked in the direction of the demons stuck in the trap as Sam walked back to his brother side and both men started doing exactly what needed to be done without saying another word to one another.

Iliana stared Bobby down and spewed a string of curses in his direction that he would swear he had never heard come from any human woman's mouth before as he approached the perimeter of the trap and just stared silently back before he began; ignoring every crude and vicious thing she threw in his direction.

"You can't drive me out of this body Bobby Singer, you don't have the balls," she taunted the seasoned hunter as he initiated the exorcism, no longer listening to one word she said.

"_**Exorcizo te, omnis spiritus immunde, in nomine Dei Patris omnipotentis, et in noimine Jesu Christi Filii ejus…" **_

"Screw you Singer, I'm not going anywhere and you and Sam are going to be just as dead as Dean is there by the time we're through with you," she tossed another empty threat she couldn't possibly back up, the weight of the comment shaking Bobby somewhat when she mentioned Dean and dead in the same sentence, but he kept his composure and just continued undaunted.

"_**Domini et Judicis nostri, et in virtute Spiritus Sancti, ut descedas ab hoc plasmate Dei, quod Dominus noster ad templum sanctum suum vocare dignatus est, ut fiat templum Dei vivi, et Spiritus Sanctus habitet in eo." **_

"You may be able to drive me out, but it isn't going to save your precious Dean. I guarantee you, he isn't leaving here breathing. In fact, I don't think I hear him breathing anymore at all. Get a body bag ready, I think you are going to need it," she screamed in absolute terror now that she knew she had been defeated. She was losing the fragile hold on the body she had inhabited for so long and as Bobby spoke the final words, she was finally driven out and into the stagnant air around her that she had to share with her ethereal master.

"_**Per eumdem Christum Dominum nostrum, qui venturus est judicare vivos et mortuos, et saeculum per ignem."**_

When the last words were spoken, her mouth dropped open and her body fell hard on its knees to the floor as the black cloud poured out. Bobby quickly reached for the corpse she had just been driven from and pulled it free from the confines of the trap, dragging it to his side as he just let it fall limply to the ground next to him. Looking first at the dead woman at his feet, then at the intermingling dark forms floating harmlessly in the devil's trap on the floor, he turned his head in Sam's direction now that the sunlight was nearly obliterated by the moon in front of it and anxiously looked to see if he had finished with the knives yet. He wasn't looking forward to slicing his other hand open to bleed all over the floor, but he knew they had a lot of bleeding to do and needed to start doing it soon.

"Sam, you almost done over there? We're just about out of daylight over here," he called into the near dark now, the only light they really had was the reddish glow filling the room from the still burning fireplace, though the illumination had died down quite a bit as the fire was no longer being fed by the Double Mint twins that seemed to have vanished into thin air. The room had become cold and the air crisp as it took on the distinct scent of snow.

"Almost…hang on a minute," Sam called back, the waver in his voice unmistakable the second it fell on Bobby's ears and the older man knew there were tears behind the falter he'd heard. Sam's mask of sheer anger and rage that he had worn only mere moments before as he stormed past Iliana and looked her in the eye had been just that, a mask. The mask he had donned to hide the fear and doubt he felt with each and every glance he stole at his brother propped up in the corner, miraculously still drawing in strained breaths somehow. The fear that every breath he took would be his last and the doubt that he would live long enough for Sam to simply say goodbye to him before he actually passed.

"…_**per invocationem sancti tui nominis expetita, ab omnibus sit impugnationibus defensa. Per Dominum, amen**_," he'd heard Sam finish as the sound of tearing cloth echoed through the still of the room. Sam had taken off his button-up outer shirt, leaving him sweaty and chilled in nothing but the damp, blood stained t-shirt he still wore…Dean's t-shirt, and tore it into strips to protect the knives he'd so painstakingly cleansed and blessed from the blood of his own right hand, mindful to discard any pieces that may have any blood or vomit already on them. He wrapped his palm up in a long strip before picking up a one of the daggers off the floor with one of the cleanest remaining pieces of cloth he could tear off and as he glanced one more time in Dean's direction, he let out a heavy sigh and stood.

"Yeah, I'm done," Sam answered him as he rose from the floor brandishing two very shiny, very clean, and very sharp knives that were very ready for use. Sam handed one to Bobby as he palmed the other in his wrapped up hand himself, careful not to get any dried blood on any part of the handle or blade and without wasting a second drew the edge across his unmarred left palm and squeezed his hand open and closed a few times to start a nice, heavy flow. "I don't have much water left in your flask Bobby; you better grab Dean's out of his jacket."

"Start at the north Sam and work your way clockwise," Bobby instructed as he also shot Dean a worried glance before grabbing the young man's coat off the floor and digging through the pockets, feeling somewhat like he was violating Dean's privacy at the act, wondering all the while why Sam hadn't done it himself. Tucking the metal container of holy water into his back pocket, he splayed open his own undamaged palm with the knife Sam had just handed him, "I'll start at the south and finish where you started."

Sam walked his circle slowly and deliberately around the trap in total silence as he listened to Bobby recited the words in Latin that would banish the two epitomes of evil back to the hell they came from forever, watching as both dark clouds trapped inside scrambled unsuccessfully to escape. They ricocheted from one side to another but hit nothing but an invisible brick wall when they would touch the red ring surrounding them. Sam was very careful not to leave any spot on the circle already stained in the floor untouched with his own fresh blood and by the time he'd reached Bobby's starting point, the sun was nothing more than a tiny slit in the blackened sky. Uncapping the flask that contained barely any remaining water now, he prayed it would be enough and stood stark still, waiting for Bobby to give the word. Once the older hunter had completed his own half of the ring and stood facing Sam from the opposite side, he opened Dean's flask, raised it up above his head and gave the younger man a nod as he continued to speak, bringing the container down with his words and spraying the water inside the trap as Sam followed suit.

"_**Tollete dolorem, tollete eum, Spiritus malus, Ite in facinum, In facinum sempiternum, Facine claudete ostium mundi tenebricosi, Abite tu male," **_he shouted out boldly as the walls started shaking and the floor started rumbling and as the last word came from his mouth into the black of day, the floor opened wide, casting a malevolent red glow throughout the entire room. Both men heard the howling winds coming from deep within the crater that had appeared from nowhere and stared in shock as they sucked both masses of dark mist down with them and the instant they were gone the floor closed, the air stilled, and the entire room went eerily silent.

"Fuck you both…and the hell hounds you rode in on," Sam snarled as he launched the now bloody dagger into the center of the trap, not bothering to watch it as it landed tip first and stuck straight up in the wooden floor now that he'd turned away from the circle and nearly ran back to where he'd left his brother alone, leaning heavily against the wall in a corner. He could hear the fluid-filled, rumbling breaths Dean was intermittently trying to take as he approached and knew they had very little time left on their side to get him the help he so desperately needed to survive.

Leaning in closely next to his brother once he was right by his side, he could clearly see that aside from the occasional heaving of his chest, Dean made no movement of any kind whatsoever anymore. He was no longer shaking uncontrollably from the chills that had been plaguing him nearly all day and was now lying deathly still against the wall Sam had propped him up against. Slipping an arm behind his brother's back, he made an anemic attempt to pick all of Dean's nearly dead weight up but succeeded in doing nothing more than losing his own balance and falling back onto his ass as his brother's body landed heavily in his lap, causing Dean to give out a rather pained grunt as he fell into Sam's embrace.

"Come on Dean, we need to get you out of here and get you some help," Sam told him as he attempted to get his feet back under himself in an effort to rise from the floor, hoping to somehow bring Dean up with him, desperately needing to get him out of this house and somewhere safe. "Why didn't you tell me you were getting so sick? Why do you always have to pretend you're fine when you're not? Damn it Dean, why did we even have to come…" he tried shaking his brother fully awake when he saw Dean's eyes start to flutter open at the sound of his harried voice and produced a strained smile when Dean's eyes did finally open fully and looked blearily at him as Sam worriedly chastised him.

"Your coat smells like puke Sam, and sweat. When was the last time you showered dude?" Dean tried to joke, but by the look on his brother's face, Sam wasn't even remotely amused. "Ok, I know I really screwed up bad this time, didn't I Sammy? Oh god little brother, there's so much I need to tell you before…" Dean whispered into Sam's ear as Sam held him close to his chest, each word he tried to speak coming out more and more labored.

"You can tell me later, after we get you to a hospital," Sam cut him off, not wanting to hear what he had a bad feeling Dean was trying so desperately to say to him. He knew what was coming and he wouldn't listen to it, he couldn't listen to it.

"We both know I'm not gonna make it to a hospital Sam," Dean resigned himself to the fate he'd made all on his own in the misguided hopes of saving his brother from whatever evils were pining for his soul. "Hell, I'm probably not even gonna make it out the front door."

"Dean…please don't…you're not…"

"No Sam, you need to listen to me… and Bobby too," Dean began, needing to relay what was on his mind before he couldn't anymore. "You have to burn that floor. Promise me you'll destroy it so…" Dean started, only to be cut off by Bobby this time when the older man saw how difficult it was for Dean to even speak and breathe at the same time and wanting to spare him as many words as possible.

"Consider it done boy. You just…" Bobby tried to say in as calm a tone as possible as he knelt next to both men, but Dean cut him off just as quickly as Bobby had cut off him in turn.

"Bobby," Dean looked him in the eye as he spoke to him and both he and Sam looked at one another when they equally saw the beads of moisture coming from Dean's eyes that were starting to roll down the sides of his flushed face and somehow they knew that it wasn't fever-induced sweat they were seeing running along his cheeks. The shock of Dean's arm darting out and grabbing his hand startled Bobby and his eyes immediately turned to look back at Dean's. "Promise me you'll take care of Sam…please…he's gonna need…"

"You can take care of Sam yourself Dean…after we get out of here and fix you up. Come on kid, you can't check out like this, what would your daddy say?" Bobby fought his own tears now as he watched the young man that meant so much to him for so many years dying before his very eyes and knowing there was not a damn thing he could do about it.

"Bobby…please…promise me…" he started to say, only to cut himself off this time when he started to cough. Not the harsh, body convulsing coughing he had endured for days now but a weak, feeble expulsion of air that had nearly no force behind it. "…and Sam…you take care of Bobby too. He's the only family you've got."

"Dean…stop…" Sam finally found a voice to speak with as he pressed a hand firmly against the knife wound in his brother's side now that the meek attempt at clearing his lungs had started a slow trickle of blood flowing from it again. "We need to get out of here now."

"Can't Sam…I'm sorry, I just can't," Dean mumbled back and even though he was looking at Sam, he wasn't really looking at Sam anymore. He wasn't really looking at anything anymore.

"Why the hell not?" Sam asked, the fear extremely evident in his voice. "Dean, look at me, please."

"I'm trying to Sam, but I just can't anymore. The light…it's so bright…it's blinding me…I can't see," his voice was barely a whisper, but the words instilled a sheer panic in Sam that couldn't be suppressed.

"No Dean…it's just the sun, see it? The eclipse is over and it's glaring in your face," Sam tried telling him, knowing he was entirely full of crap but needing his brother to hold on.

"I can see her Sam…she's right there…she wants me to come to her…" Dean told his brother as his blind eyes drifted off to the side, apparently looking at nothing but seeing something only visible to him.

"Who wants you Dean? Who do you see?"

"It's mom…I see mom Sammy…she's right there," he answered Sam as he made a feeble effort to point in the direction his eyes were trained and what Dean had said was the last thing Sam wanted to hear.

"Don't you leave me Dean, don't you dare…"

"I'm sorry Sam…I'm so sorry…I love you little brother…" he breathed his last words nearly inaudibly to Sam as his eyes finally closed and Sam felt his entire body go loose and limp against his own.

"Dean…wake up…god damn it, wake up!" Sam screamed as he shook his brother's lax body with some force, not even caring if it caused any additional pain of any kind. Sliding his bloodied fingers against his brother's hot, sweaty neck, Sam was not the least bit surprised that he felt no pulse.

Sam's next movements were quick once it hit him that Dean was not breathing anymore and his heart had stopped beating and in one very smooth move, he slid out from underneath his brother and laid him down on the hard floor. Lacing the fingers of both hands together, he pressed them hard against Dean's silent chest and started compressing hard, ignoring the horrid popping sounds he heard as he fractured ribs in his frenzied attempt at administering CPR. Thirty hard and quick thrusts he gave his brother's body before positioning his head in it's proper place and pulling down his chin to blow in what little air he could, oblivious to the blood covering Dean's lips and chin that were now all over his own.

"Bobby, help me…" he begged the older man who had fallen into an unusual calm and seemed to be unable to do anything but stand back and watch as Sam resumed the seemingly useless crushing of Dean's chest.

Thirty more times and still nothing. Nothing but the sounds of crunching bones under his fists. He heard no breath, felt no pulse, but refused to admit that his brother had no life left in him. He didn't even bother to give any more breaths, he just kept compressing Dean's chest in the hopes of forcing him to live, the only thing finally stopping him was the hand that fell hard on his shoulder and the voice that was clearly tear ridden speaking softly into his ear next to him.

"He's gone Sam ," Bobby stated in an utterly anguished tone and all Sam could do was gather up his brother's dead body off the floor, clutch it tight against his own and sob.

_End Notes: I found a bigger rock to hide behind, so have at it! Hurl whatever you want in my direction, just don't throw any dead fish, please!_

_And for the third time, it's not a deathfic!_

_Oh, one more thing...I think I fixed all the errors, but if not, please let me know. I was really tired when I proofread this, so I won't be surprised if I missed something._


	16. Chapter 16

_Author's Notes: My apologies for the long posting delay. I have an out of town guest that, well...it's an in-law...do I need to say more? Somehow that seems to be monopolizing my time and I am really sorry. I know this is a little short and I hope you all still like it, my mindset isn't exactly where it needs to be at the moment_.

Chapter 16

"He's gone Sam…" Bobby uttered through his own set of tears, his hesitant voice quietly breaking the oppressive silence that had fallen over the room as he rested a heavy, nerve-induced shaking hand on Sam's rigid shoulder while he wiped his own tear-stained face clean on his sleeve to rid his cheeks of any evidence he had been crying before he looked down at the equally heartbroken man sprawled out on the floor before him with his dead brother laying heavily in his lap.

"He can't be gone Bobby…he just can't be," Sam finally managed to utter out in his own anguished tone after a very long, very painful span of silence that seemed like it would never end. "He promised Dad he would protect me…he promised him, right before Dad died... and I still need my big brother's protection. I don't want to do this by myself Bobby, I just can't, and I don't even think I want to try."

"Sam, don't say that," Bobby could barely spit the words out as he looked long and hard at the two men huddled together as one on the cold, unforgiving floor; one still breathing gulps of air in rather harshly through the tears he shed while the other was unbelievably not breathing anymore at all. "Maybe if he hadn't been so sick Sam...or maybe if I hadn't been so stupid…"

Sam interrupted Bobby's words and thoughts as if he hadn't heard a word the man had said as he continued to express his denial at what he knew had just happened. "No Bobby, he can't be dead…Don't you understand? Dad gave him an order and he never disobeys Dad's orders. Dad ordered him to look after me, to take care of me… he can't leave me alone…he just can't leave me to fend for myself," Sam breathed out through his now heaving sobs, unable to wrap his anguished mind around the fact that the body resting heavily in his lap couldn't open his eyes anymore and just tell him he was fine. He'd give anything to hear that two word phrase right now that usually drove him crazy every time he heard it flatly stated and knew it was always bullshit when he did. "Wake up Dean… please… wake up, come on man, you're fine, you're not dead…you can't be dead. I need you to wake up for me man…I need you to breathe. What would Dad say? Open your eyes and look at me!"

Bobby cringed at the sight of Sam prying his brother's eyelids apart and couldn't help but stare when they remained half-open and fixed on nothing as the sound of more popping and cracking echoed through the room when Sam started violently shaking his brother's limp, bloody corpse and pounded on his now silent chest as he screamed at him repeatedly to wake up and open his eyes, almost as if he could shake the life back into him somehow with his words and fists alone. Dean's body was still so hot against his as he held it tight in his arms that in Sam's mind that meant he just couldn't be dead. Dead was cold and Dean was far from cold. Dropping weakly to his knees next to the young man that was slowly losing whatever grip on reality he may have had moments before, Bobby grabbed Sam by the arm to stop his relentless beating of Dean's non-responsive body and forced him to look away from his brother's lifeless face and directly into his own.

"Stop it Sam…that ain't gonna bring him back!" Bobby had to yell into the young hunter's lost stare, but even with the near shout he'd let it out in, he had barely gotten through to Sam's agonized mind. Grief and shock had taken full control of the last remaining Winchester's thoughts and Bobby knew getting Sam to let go of his brother was not going to be any easy task. "Sam…please..."

Feeling the horrid pain of his own heart crushed into tiny little pieces as he watched the man he had seen grow up from a scared, shattered little boy into a fierce warrior in his father's small army of three as they waged war against the thing that had destroyed their lives, he couldn't even remotely begin to imagine what Sam was going through at this very second as he stared into his brother's dead eyes and he didn't know if he could even begin to try, but as much as he had loved Dean like his own son and feeling how bad it hurt him more than death and damnation itself to see that spark that had been there behind that normally determined green gaze only days before totally extinguished, he knew that their grieving would have to wait. They, meaning him and Sam, still had work to do.

Dean had been right in what he'd told them with his dying words. They had to burn that floor to squash any hopes that anyone may ever entertain of ever trying this again. It seemed that as long as Winchester and Singer blood continued to roam the earth, this would never be over, but they could at least eliminate one very obvious factor from the whole equation. He knew what they had to do, he just couldn't tear his eyes away long enough from Sam cradling Dean's dead form as the younger brother had finally stopped beating on the dead man's body and had gone back to rocking his older brother back and forth on the floor, much like he'd seen Dean to Sam a million times when they were children to actually do it. Dean had always been there to comfort Sam, but Sam had no comfort now.

"It's not fair Bobby. They took him from me…they killed him sure as if they'd stuck him with that knife themselves… and for what? Dean's gone and that bastard demon is still gonna come after me eventually. What am I gonna do without Dean to watch my back…to keep me safe…to protect me from our enemies?" Sam's voice was barely audible anymore as he whispered more to his brother than to the older man kneeling next to him between his own hitched breaths now that his bloodshot eyes had drifted back down and fixed themselves directly onto Dean's cold, blank gaze again. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't turn himself away. "He was all I had Bobby, he was all I had left. Now I have nothing."

"I know Sam, but…" Bobby acknowledged everything Sam said as he listened to the pain pour out from him in his words and tone. That only made what he needed to say so much harder to actually verbalize even though he knew he had to. Resting his own bloodied hand lightly across Dean's amazingly peaceful face, he gently closed the eyes that continued to stare at nothing with the mere brushing of his fingertips before looking calmly at Sam as he took him by the chin and forced him to look in his direction. "Sam…we gotta finish this. What do you want to do about…you know?"

"About what?" Sam shot back, the anger in his voice apparent. He wasn't ready to answer that question that was hanging right in front of him in the thick air. He didn't think he'd ever be able to answer that question. Hell, he still hadn't fully accepted Dean was really gone yet. This was a mistake; it had to be a mistake.

"About Dean? What do you want to do about Dean?" Bobby persisted, knowing full well that the longer Dean's body was laying there exposed to whatever demons may still be lingering about, the easier it would be for one to hijack it and take it for a little joyride of sorts.

"What about Dean?" Was all Sam could ask after a long, silent pause. His pain was so raw and his emotions so unchecked now, he couldn't even let those thoughts run around free in his mind yet, not if he wanted to remain even a bit remotely sane.

"We need to salt and burn the floor Sam, it's the only way to make sure it can't be used again…at least we hope so anyway. I think we should…we need to make sure that his body…"

"No…I can't…we can't…I won't," was all Sam could say as he spit out nothing but half thoughts while he tightened his death-grip on Dean even harder, fearful that Bobby was going to try and take away the last remaining pieces of his brother from him to cremate. He knew it had to be done, his own common sense couldn't let him deny it, but he just wasn't going to let it happen yet.

"Sam, it's not going to get any easier the longer we wait," Bobby tried telling him as he again tried resting a reassuring hand on Sam's shoulder, but for some reason the attempt at a comforting sort of contact didn't illicit the reaction Bobby had expected. What he got was quite the opposite and he was instantly taken aback by it.

Bobby's touch had seemed almost like a lightning bolt that struck Sam directly in the head and charged its way down his entire body as he stared at the older man, somewhat blankly at first as his devastated mind tried to process what the man had just said but not remaining that way when his protective instincts somehow overwhelmed him. Clutching Dean's obviously lifeless body even harder against his own, Sam glared at the older hunter with an almost feral stare as he dragged him as far into the corner as he could and held him tight against his chest. Bobby could see that Sam was nearly out of his own mind by now as he sat cowering away from him as if he didn't even recognize the man he had known his entire life and could hear Sam mumbling into his brother's ear now that it was barely inches from Sam's bloodstained lips.

"Come back to me Dean…please come back to me…" he repeated over and over in the most heart wrenching beg Bobby had ever heard come from the younger brother in his short few years as tears streamed fast down his cheeks, landing in tiny droplets against Dean's ashen skin. His begging got louder and louder with each repeated phrase until Sam was nearly screaming wildly into the now bright sunlight.

It was so subtle that he barely notice anything at first, the way the floor beneath his feet started to rumble as the temperature started to slowly rise throughout the entire frigid area, first in the little corner of the room the brother's were huddled in together, until it started to radiate out in every direction as it became increasingly warmer and warmer until it was nearly unbearable against his skin. Every hair on his body stood on end as he felt a strange vibration fill the air and all he could do was stand there staring at Sam with fear-filled wide eyes as he held Dean close to him in his arms. He also couldn't help but notice the way the dead brother's body started to tremble in his baby brother's lap in unison with the windows as they all started to rattle throughout the entire house like an eerie chorus. Even with the intense heat flowing throughout not just the room but the whole expansive area of the house now, Sam's face had gone an unhealthy shade of ghostly white as he continued his raving chant.

"Come back to me Dean…you can't have him yet mom, I still need him…" he was nearly shrieking as the glass continued to shudder uncontrollably in its frames until it seemed that each window could take no more abuse.

Seemingly unable to breathe another word as exhaustion settled into him, Sam's eyes just closed as he rested his skull gently against the corner joint behind him, the simple act of his resting his weary head against the wall shattering every window in every corner of the house, leaving the entire room deathly silent once the last shards of glass had finally fallen. The unnerving rumble in the floor had stopped, the vibration in the air had gone still and for the briefest of moments, the entire room was peaceful and almost serene.

Sam felt it against him before he actually heard it or saw it. It started as a nearly inaudible low, painful rumble that seemed to get harder and faster with each passing second. By the time he'd gathered the energy to open his eyes and lift his head out of the corner to look into his brother's face, he could do nothing but stare in total shock as he watched Dean's mouth open wide and suck in air like the first breaths a drowning man takes as his head mercifully breaks the surface. His chest rattled hard as the oxygen flowed into his lungs with each new breath he took, one after another until it was clearly obvious that somehow, someway, Dean was alive. Reaching for his brother's throat, he couldn't stop the fresh flow of tears from coming as he felt for the pulse he knew was there, but it still amazed him that he actually had found one. Raising his eyes to meet Bobby's he just stared in dumbfounded awe.

Bobby's eyes had gone equally as wide as Sam's had as he stared right back at the intense look on the youngest Winchester's face when he realized what he had just witnessed, the words the demon had spoken to Dean only minutes earlier blaring through his head like an unearthly, demonic trumpet announcing impending doom. '_Your brother is a source of immense power that he has yet to realize. Oh, if you only knew the things Sam is capable of, it would terrify you.' _Ilsa had taunted Dean relentlessly with those exact words not long before and Bobby suddenly knew she had not been exaggerating as he heard a dead man now struggling for air in the corner, still clutched firmly in his brother's unwavering grasp. Both men just stared at one another, neither one knowing exactly what to say until Dean suddenly started hacking. The fresh spray of blood across his lips seemed to jerk them both back to some sort of unbelievable reality and each man knew they had to move quickly. Dean may be alive again, but for how long?

_End Notes: As promised, not a deathfic. Is it safe to climb out from behind the rock yet? As always, I am anxious to hear what you all have to say...come on, don't be shy._


	17. Chapter 17

_Author's Notes: I wasn't going to do this, but I seem to be weak minded and got talked into doing it anyway once the suggestion came out. Hope it's not too corny. _

Chapter 17

All sound ceased to exist around him as the entire house had gone strangely silent in every corner of every room and Dean could do nothing but stare in amazement at the eyes that fell lovingly upon his bloody, yet peacefully tranquil face as she leaned over him and smiled at him gently, eyes that were filled to the brim with nothing but unconditionally eternal love and adoration for her fragile little boy that was now clearly nothing more than a hurt, weary and painfully broken man. She was all he could see through the blinding white light as she extended a hand to him and he took it willingly in his own, forcing himself to stand and reveling in her mere presence. Her skin was warm to his touch and soft to the feel as he held her hand against his own hard, calloused fingers and he found it nearly impossible to take his eyes off of her. He had etched her face permanently into his young memory long ago and she was exactly as his child's mind had remembered her to be. He could even remember the scent of the soft, blonde hair that fell against her shoulders and cascaded down her back as the light curls that surrounded her softly illuminated face shimmered in the glow behind her when the memories of burying his own tiny little face against her neck for comfort came vividly back to him.

"Mom, is that really you?" He finally found a voice to speak, the tone he projected it in being barely recognizable as it came out unusually childlike and painfully innocent.

"Yes baby, it's really me," she answered affirmatively as she brushed the back of her hand down the length of his cheek and Dean couldn't help but fall to his knees and wrap his arms around her waist as he buried his face into her body to breathe her in the second he heard the word 'yes' fall from her lips.

She exuded an incredibly comforting sort of warmth that enveloped him when she wrapped her own arm around his head and shoulders and he didn't think he could ever let go of her, no matter how hard he tried. Suddenly, he felt like he was four years old again and feeling his mother's arms tightly blanketed around him for the first time in twenty three years as he kneeled against her and basked in her warmth was almost too much for his abused mind to take. Tears he had pent up for so many years that he had been trying so hard to hold back nearly his entire life just flowed undeterred down his face as he held on tight to the mother he had loved more than almost anything and missed so much. She made no effort to rush him through the emotional onslaught he seemed to be enduring because she knew he needed to finally let them all out, which he agonizingly did. He let all of his grief and pain from the last two decades wash over him like a deadly monsoon of sorts, her presence being his only anchor in the near drowning flood of his own emotional torrents.

"I missed you so much Mom," he whispered as he clung to her even tighter, the fear that if he let her go she would suddenly be gone again becoming very real to him the instant he realized what her standing there really meant and for the briefest of moments, it scared him. Tilting his head up to meet her stare, he let his tear riddled eyes fall solely on hers once again before asking her what he really already knew. "Oh god no…Mom, am I really dead?"

"Oh Dean, I wish it were only that simple," she softly stated as soothingly as she possibly could and her response threw him mentally for a loop. Dying was supposed to be simple, wasn't it? This was playing out exactly the way he had always been told death would be by people that claimed to have been through it and had miraculously come back. The brilliantly bright light assaulting his eyes that blocked everything else out entirely; the typical, long since passed loved one coming to guide you into that light to take you to the great beyond; the blissfully peaceful silence that was heard but not heard as the cruel world was left far behind, the whole nine yards. What could possibly be simpler than that? Why couldn't **anything **be simple for a Winchester?

"I don't understand. If I'm dead, aren't you here to take me to heaven or wherever it is we all end up eventually after we die?" Dean questioned in an overly confused tone and it broke her heart to have to answer him. She wanted nothing more than to take her little boy away from all of his pain and suffering, but that just wasn't her decision to make. She could clearly lay out his choices, but that decision could only be have to be his.

"Turn around and watch, then I'll explain," she instructed him as she unwrapped her arms from his neck and gently turned him around to face what was going on behind him . Resting her hands lightly on his broad shoulders, the blinding white light dissipating enough for Dean to see what had been happening beyond his realm of awareness.

He kneeled at his mother's feet and stared at his distraught baby brother as Sam sat huddled in the corner; cradling his limp and quite obviously dead body against his own and rocking it like a baby with tears streaming heavily down his all too pale face as he said something repeatedly that Dean couldn't hear from inside his secure little cocoon. The younger brother's pallor frightened him when he noticed that all of the color had drained from Sam's face and he wanted to reach out to him as he watched him swaying to and fro on the hard floor while clutching the form that even he himself couldn't quite seem to accept was his own just yet. Sam's movements seemed to get more and more frantic as his bellowing apparently got louder and louder and even though Dean could audibly hear nothing coming from outside their shell, he was sure he knew what his brother was saying to him.

"Mom, what's happening?" He had to ask when he saw the first signs that something was terribly wrong in the room. He could visibly see the way his own lifeless body trembled unnaturally in Sam's arms as he continued his constant ranting and he knew that if he wasn't already dead, Sam's heartbroken screams and sobs would have stabbed him like sharp daggers boring into his heart, killing him with each and every outburst. Kneeling on the floor with his mouth hanging agape, Dean watched in shock at what he thought would be nothing less than impossible had he not seen it with his own eyes as windows shattered and glass flew in every direction after Sam's head fell limply back to rest against the wall behind him. "Mom, wha…"

Dean cut his own words off when he felt what was about to happen next before he actually saw it. Pain swirled around his entire ethereal being like a hurricane that he was thankfully safe inside the calm of the eye of for the time being as Mary squeezed his shoulders tight in an attempt to reassure him that this was somehow all going to be alright, whatever exactly 'this' was. He needed that silent reassurance when he saw his own bloody lips pull themselves apart to draw in whatever air they could air, his body no longer dead in his brother's lap but very much alive. He could almost feel where every dull ache and sharp, intense pain was inside his corporeal shell and was somewhat surprised with himself that he was grateful he wasn't actually in it anymore.

"How…how did he do that?" Dean begged for answers as he slumped further to the floor.

"You and your brother are very special Dean, but I think you already knew that, didn't you?" She asked him as she began the explanation she knew she had to give now that the light had returned and closed Dean's vision off to the sight that had been displayed before him, leaving him once again unaware of what was happening to his own body anymore. Her face no longer held the soft, loving look it had at first but now fell on him with a deep-seeded concern for her eldest son's soul.

"I know Sam is special," he answered in a near whisper, not sure he wanted to hear what she was going to tell him. He just wanted to wrap his arms around her again and stay that way forever, hoping she could protect him from that looming, horrible pain that he knew was waiting for him just outside their protective light and keep it away. "There's nothing special about me though."

"You're wrong about that Dean. Sam needs you to keep him grounded. He needs to keep him centered," she tried to smile at him through her sorrowful gaze as she paused to tell him everything he needed to know. "You two truly are soul mates. He may be the one with powers, but you are the energy that feeds them. Even your father knew that, that's partially why he did what he did."

"Oh Mom…I'm sorry about Dad…"he tried to choke out, finding it harder and harder to speak as each word came out when the mere mention of his father sent his mind reeling. His parents had loved each other so much and he now knew they would never be together again now that he was burning in hell, a hell that Dean knew he had put him in.

"Don't be sorry Dean. I would have done the exact same thing for you…or Sam," she tried telling him. "Your father loved you so much he never hesitated once when he made that deal for you, even when he knew what the terms meant. He could never let anyone take you away from your brother… and neither can I."

Dean couldn't help but cringe at the sound of his mother woefully mentioning what his father had done to save him, what he had sacrificed just so he could live. He sacrificed more than just his soul and Dean knew it as he stared into his mother's eyes. The pain of his father's death was still so raw inside him it felt like a knife buried deep in his heart was being twisted every time he looked at Sam and realized what had been taken from his younger brother. It never occurred to him that what was so brutally taken from Sam was nothing compared to what he had been given back in return. John knew it, Mary knew it, even Sam somehow subconsciously knew it, but Dean had so little self worth he couldn't even entertain such crazy thoughts in his devastated mind. Mary could see the turmoil her son was in and wasn't sure she wanted to continue, even thought she knew she had to.

"Dean, you have a decision to make and it will be the hardest decision you've ever faced in your entire life," she began telling him as she gently rested a finger under his chin and drew his face up to look into her own now that his stare had fallen to the floor. "Your brother forced life back into your body, but you need to decide whether or not you're willing to return to it."

"What are you saying Mom?" He questioned; the confusion evident in his voice. "You're telling me I can go back, go back to Sam?"

"Yes Dean, that's what I am telling you. All you need to do is step out of the light and into that intense pain that I know you can feel is waiting there for you, but I have to warn you that if you go, you can never come back," she answered him with tears in her own eyes now, knowing full well by the look on her remarkably solemn son's face what his decision would ultimately be.

"What do you mean, I can never come back?" Dean demanded, suddenly hesitant to answer anything just yet and not liking the sound of what his mother was trying to tell him.

"Dean, things are going to happen and you'll make some choices that will send you down a path that you won't be able to come back from. You need to understand this before you decide what you're going to do. We'll never be together again if you go back, ever. I'm sorry, but that's all I can tell you," Mary sighed as she dropped her gaze away from Dean and waited for him to respond.

"But Sammy…I promised Dad I'd protect him," he argued, not with his mother but mostly with himself. He wanted to stay with his mother so much more than he wanted to go back to the unbearable agony he knew was waiting for him inside his battered body, but the thought of Sam being alone in such an evil world gave him a moment's pause.

"You have spent your entire life valiantly protecting your brother Dean, that's why you need to choose which direction you want to go. Sam will go on without you, of that I can guarantee, but only you can decide if he goes on alone. Remember what you'll be giving up if you go back though. I'm sorry Dean, but the decision is yours and yours alone and you need to make it soon before it's too late. Machines will keep you alive, but you're body won't live without you inside it forever. It may take years, but eventually it will wither and die," Mary told him, noticing how obviously torn Dean was. It took him a long few, agonizing moments to make up his mind and turning to his mother once again, he wrapped his arm around her tight and squeezed her with all the strength he had and could only pray he was making the right choice.

_End Notes: Sorry it's so short but I really didn't want to drag the whole decision making process out too long. Thanks for reading and being patient. I'm off to hopefully feed Vanessa's addiction now!!_


	18. Chapter 18

_Author's Notes: It's Tuesday, and that means it's All About Bobby Day. (Ok, not sure where that came from but whatever. Last day of a very long holiday weekend!) Sorry if this isn't exactly what everyone expected but I had to tie up some very loose ends._

Chapter 18

"Dean…wake up…look at me…please," Sam pleaded as he wiped the fresh spray of blood his brother's feeble hacking had just painted on his overly dry lips away with the swipe of a thumb after tapping his cheek lightly; his thumb that was already covered with his own dried blood. He knew by the way his brother breathed, or tried to breathe, that he desperately needed to get Dean medical attention, but he just couldn't seem to make himself move to do it. All he wanted to do was sit there a little while longer holding him to convince himself Dean was really there with him again.

"Sam…ease up on the death grip and let him get some air in," Bobby stated bluntly as he watched Dean's pained struggle to inhale. The first few breaths he had miraculously taken had gone in easily enough before the blood-spewing coughs had forced their way out, but once they had quieted, each attempt at air intake seemed to be coming with more and more difficulty. Bobby stood frozen in place as he listened to the fluid rattling around in Dean's chest but was almost afraid to approach the young man practically cowering in the corner with his brother's body still being held too tightly against him.

"He's alive Bobby," Sam just mumbled, seemingly in utter shock. "My brother's alive."

"I can see that, but he ain't gonna be for long if we don't get him out of here," he responded as he approached the two men slowly and carefully, his last attempt at reaching out to Sam being what had forced him to crawl away and protectively try to shield himself and his brother's lifeless body in the corner in the first place.

Sam barely heard Bobby's words as they echoed through the oppressive silence in the house. All he could hear were the shuddering breaths Dean tried sucking in that were coming few and far between as precious time continued to tick by, the life Sam had forced back into his dying body slowly oozing its way right back out before their very eyes. He had been unconsciously holding Dean in such a tight embrace against his chest that what little room there had been for his lungs to expand behind his abused and probably fractured ribcage was being crushed by Sam's desperate need to cling to the brother that he thought was lost to him only moments before.

Bobby could not just impotently stand by and do nothing any longer as he watched Dean struggle mightily at the simple act of breathing and decided if Sam wasn't going to do something, he sure as hell would. He approached Sam so quickly he didn't have time to react, the daze that he was in preventing him from even noticing he had stormed up right next to him anyway. Dropping to one knee and wrapping his own bloody hand around one of Sam's taut wrists, he pulled on it gently at first, then tugged again with a little more force when he felt the firm resistance the younger man gave back, the force he used on the third try nearly yanking the arm free from its persistent grasp.

"Sam, his lungs don't need any more reason to stop sucking in air again other than the ones they already got all on their own and your crushing them in that bear hug ain't helping!" He forcefully spoke when Sam silently turned his eyes glaringly on him and if Dean hadn't been resting limply in his lap, he was sure Sam would have physically retaliated. "Snap out of it boy! If we don't get him out of here soon, whatever it is you just did ain't gonna make a lick' a difference. He's gonna die in your arms again sure as shit stinks if we don't get him some help, and fast!"

The combination of Bobby's words and the sudden change in Dean's breathing now that his chest wasn't being clamped tight in Sam's vice-like arms somehow registered in Sam's bewildered mind, the harsh breaths that had suddenly turned into a labored wheeze finally giving him some much needed clarity to make things click. That and the slight shudder he could feel starting to make its way through Dean's body that was increasing in severity with each attempted intake of air. With his mindless trance at long last broken, Sam finally felt the intense heat that had been radiating from his brother's lax body all along, the heat that hadn't died when he had but seemed to be rising dangerously high since Sam had wrestled him from the arms of death.

"Bobby…I think we need to get out of here," Sam simply stated as he met the man's worried gaze. "I'm pretty sure his ribs are broken and I think his lung collapsed."

"Glad we're finally seeing things eye to eye kid," Bobby stood as he let out the breath he didn't even know he'd been holding since kneeling down beside them and yelling at Sam in the hopes of jerking the shell-shocked kid back to the harsh reality he needed to be in once again for his brother's sake. "My trucks outside. You need help carrying him?"

"Yeah, I think I do," Sam admitted as he reluctantly slid out from underneath Dean's increasingly trembling frame and rested him gently on the floor before making an effort to pick himself up. With little regard to the fact that his palms had just finally stopped bleeding, Bobby instantly extended out a hand to assist the young man that was becoming more and more alert as his adrenaline started pumping harder and harder which in turn kicked his brain into gear, but when Sam made an attempt to wrap his own hand around Bobby's injured one to drag himself to his feet, the older man's eyes went wide and he drew his hand back out of nothing more than sheer surprise, the look on his face expressing the emotion very clearly. He couldn't help but wonder how many more surprises Sam had in him as he just stared.

"What? What's wrong?" Sam questioned, obviously confused at Bobby's unusual reaction.

"Your hands Sam... look at your hands," he instructed him as he raised both of his own and displayed them palms out, both hands covered in sticky spots of rapidly drying blood that had seeped out from the large gashes in the centers. With his confusion growing, Sam lifted his own hands level with his face and could not believe what he was seeing himself when he looked at what Bobby had already noticed. He now knew why the reaction he'd received was one of stark awe. Albeit caked with his own dried blood on just about every inch, his skin was amazingly unbroken.

"That's gonna make gettin' him outta here a whole lot easier," Bobby said, trying to shake off his lingering shock. They really didn't have time for the questions Sam was undoubtedly going to start asking that would never have any answers anyway so he decided to speak first and not even entertain their thoughts. Maybe later, but not right now.

Scrambling to his feet, Sam took a position at Dean's side as Bobby did the same at the other, both men knowing exactly what needed to be done because they had done it way too many times before to count, and not just with Dean. With Dean resting on his back against the hard floor, Sam and Bobby crouched down on each side of him at his hips. Both men slid one arm under his back and one under his thighs until their hands met in the middle. Sam grasped Bobby's wrists tight in his hands and as they both tipped their heads in a silent count to three, they rose from the floor and lifted Dean up with them as carefully as they possibly could, catching his head when it started tilting back as they met each other shoulder to shoulder, making his face loll to the side and into the crook of Sam's neck. The movement had not initiated any moans or groans as Dean made no verbal utterances whatsoever and, aside from his pained air intake, remained deathly silent, but the change of position had somehow hindered the already labored breathing his body was trying so hard to keep up with.

"Walk fast Sam," Bobby nearly ordered as he started towards the door and Sam moved just as quickly right along with him.

The entryway leading to the bright outdoors had remained wide open since that unnamed demon woman with the obvious axe to grind against Iliana had been kicked it in and both men maneuvered their way through it easily, hastening their pace as the frigid wintry air slammed into them both with a chill that made their bones start to ache. The sun may have been blindingly bright as it reflected off the thick layer of snow still lying heavily on the ground, but the air was painfully cold as they breathed it in. Stopping only when they had reached the passenger side of the vehicle Sam always thought to be a piece of shit that he could never figure out why Bobby still drove in the first place, he raised a knee to support Dean's weight as he released his grip on one of Bobby's wrists to yank open the door. Turning and sliding Dean's dead weight carefully inside, Bobby gave the door a hard shove to close it, pulled keys from his pocket and thrust them into Sam's shaking hands.

"Head down the driveway and turn right when you get to the road. Chester's about thirty miles west. There's a small medical center in town with a small emergency room. I wrote the address down and stuck it in the visor, figuring we'd be needing some kind of hospital once I heard him on the phone. Get him there fast Sam. I like what I'm hearin' less than what I heard ten minutes ago and I hated the sound of that," Bobby said as he started to turn his back to Sam.

"Wait…you're not coming with us?" Sam asked as he let his mouth fall open wide. Bobby's turn for a surprise this time.

"Someone's gotta stay here and clean up this mess up. We can't leave any loose ends this time Sam, and that means burning that floor just like your brother said. I'll take care of this here and catch up to you as soon as I can."

"But…I…" Sam began to say, wanting to beg the man to just get in the truck and leave with him. As much as he knew Bobby was right, his nerves were still so wired and frayed he didn't think he could sit alone to wait out the long eternity that would be forced on him by the highly trained yet emotionally detached medical personnel that focused entirely on their patient's wellbeing and for the most part forgot about the family members that waited outside that were insane with worry as he paced the floor of the emergency room waiting area chewing on his nails and constantly trying to see what was going on behind the door which would only get him dirty looks from the people behind the counter and nothing more. Yes, he knew Bobby was right, but he also knew he didn't want to face what may be coming by himself.

"No buts Sam; get in that truck and go! You're wasting precious time your brother probably doesn't have standing here arguing with me," Bobby nearly yelled as he turned Sam around and gave him a gentle shove to the back in the direction of the front end to hopefully start his trip all the way around the vehicle to the other side. He walked with a slight hint of dread in is step and stopped when he finally reached the driver's side door, throwing Bobby a questioning look.

"How are you gonna catch up to us Bobby? You don't have a car," he stated the obvious and at Sam's comment, Bobby reached into the truck bed, took the spare tire and jack from the Impala he had tossed in when he had first come across the disabled mechanical Winchester sitting abandoned on the side of the desolate country road and played with the lug nuts that were floating around at the bottom of his pocket to make sure they were all still there.

"I know where Dean left the car. Don't worry, I'll get there. You got your phone?"

"I don't think so… must still be in the car," Sam told him as he patted himself down and prayed it wasn't in one of the pockets of his coat that was still sitting on the floor back inside the house, his coat that was soaked in either blood, sweat, or vomit. Pulling his out and checking to see if it was still charged, Bobby nodded to Sam as he tossed the cell in his direction.

"Take mine, I'll use yours…if I can find it," he directed Sam who's only answer was a return nod of the head.

Bobby caught one last glance at Dean's unconscious form still sitting in the truck; his body now slumped against the door with the side of his head pressed against the glass in what looked like a very uncomfortable position as he body shivered rapidly. The heat from his head's close proximity steamed the window up slightly, but at least he could see that Dean was clearly still breathing as he turned and walked briskly back into the house. Sam said nothing more as Bobby left; he just climbed into the cab wordlessly and started the engine, not letting it warm up much before dropping the transmission into drive and hitting the gas. The tires spun slightly on the icy pavement but finally caught when Sam eased off the pedal just a little but once their momentum started, he fishtailed slightly as he gunned it hard.

Bobby hadn't bothered to stand around to watch the brothers leave, wanting to get done what he needed to get done and get the hell out of there before someone, or something, decided to make a return engagement. He didn't know where that monstrous beast of a dog had gone, and he really didn't want to find out the hard way. Crossing through the entire space of the living room in as few quick steps as possible, he turned down the small hall at the back of the house and reveled at the sight of a bathroom.

'_First things first' _he thought as he turned on the light inside the dark, little room. It definitely had the woman's touch, there was no doubt about that when Bobby laid eyes on the dark pink soaps, towels, and rugs displayed on the backdrop of a white toilet, sink and tub surrounded by an even lighter shade of pink covering the walls, the white of the ceiling breaking up the pink parade. '_God, I hate pink'_ he let his mind wander as he turned on the hot water and let it flow, knowing it would be coming out frigid at first but would eventually run hot.

Crouching down to dig through the vanity beneath him, he nearly jumped for joy when he found a rather large case labeled 'First Aid'. He was even happier to see that it was fully stocked with an overabundance of gauze, tape and butterflies when he threw open the lid. Dean's cut to his right palm had been purely superficial, only deep enough to draw what blood was needed but his own slicing of his left had been a little deeper and he could feel it split apart and start to seep every time he opened or closed his fingers. Depositing the kit on the closed toilet seat, he reached for a bottle of alcohol and sucked in a deep breath when he saw the steam rising from inside the basin, twisted off the cap and placed it down next to the pretty pink soap roses in the fancy little dish.

With his breath held tightly inside him, he stuck the right hand under the nearly scalding hot flow, then the left and let the hot water wash away the blood and grime as the porcelain of the sink turned its own, different shade of pink. The pain had been instantaneous but bearable at first but he decided to let it pass before doing what he knew would just bring on a rather excruciating agony instead.

'_No time like the present,' _he said to himself as he gripped the nearly full bottle he'd placed in front of him with a trembling hand and started to pour, this time the breath he had sucked in refusing to leave him, even if he wanted to let it out. With the cognitive portion of his brain denying him any assistance anymore, his autonomic hunter's functions took over and he forced the bottle from one hand to the other and repeated the process, finally tossing the bottle to the side when he had emptied the contents out into both palms. He just stood there breathing heavily as the water rinsed the bloody mess away and when he could breathe normally, he finally shut off the stream now that it ran almost clean.

Yanking a pretty pink towel off the rack right next to his shoulder, he patted both palms dry carefully and decided to bandage up the left hand first since it continued to ooze defiantly. Grasping hold of the first of a few butterfly bandages, he held it in his right hand and tore the paper off with his teeth before squeezing the center of the gash closed first. One by one he worked his way outward, placing the strips to seal the sizable slash shut then wrapped the entire hand in nearly half the roll of gauze before holding the remainder in his mouth to awkwardly cut the end with the tiny pair of scissors contained inside. Taping the end off, he was satisfied with the first hand. Repeating nearly the exact same process with the other palm, he left everything right where it was and exited the claustrophobic confines, anxious to burn the whole damn house down at this point. He had already wasted too much time.

Barging through the door in front of him into a room that he somehow knew was going to be a kitchen; he frantically searched the cabinets for what he hoped would be an abundance of salt. Ripping open each and every door, he shoved items back and forth until he found the nicely sized, blue box he had been praying to find. That out of the way, he tucked the container of salt under his arm and headed outside to the garage he had somehow noticed when he had arrived, noticing it only because it had had a light in inside.

Kicking the door in rather unceremoniously, he pushed his way in and for the second time in one day, nearly jumped from his own skin at his good fortune. Tucked away from the world to see sat a relatively new, four-door Ford something or other. He'd been so excited he didn't care what it was, as long as it ran. Even though they were in the middle of nowhere, the owners of the shiny red vehicle had amazingly locked up all the doors tight and with little to no patience left anywhere in his body now, Bobby grabbed the nearest hard thing he could find and smashed the passenger side front window, spreading glass all over the seat inside. Depressing the button that would unlock all four doors, he crossed to the driver's side, opened the door and dropped himself onto the seat, not bothering to look for keys and just starting the daunting task of hotwiring the American made piece of crap and thanking god it was a Ford, since they were the easiest of any car to steal.

It didn't take him more than a minute or two to bring the engine to life and he easily found the little remote clipped to the visor that would help him exit the garage without having to drive straight through the door. Jamming a thumb on the big, gray button, the door noisily groaned from the cold as it lifted up off the ground and made its way up the track, stopping when it's trek was complete and it could go no further. Good fortune had seemingly decided to smile wide on Bobby Singer today as he noticed the needle indicating there was a full tank of gas and he smiled slightly as he drove the very short distance from the garage to the back door before climbing out, leaving the car running. He ran back to the garage, almost forgetting what he had gone outside to find in the first place and was more than pleased to find a relatively full red can perched in the corner, hopefully full of gas or something equally as flammable. Grabbing that in his hand, his eyes caught something black resting on the garage floor where the car had just been and he smiled yet again because in his book, things were really starting to look up. '_Driving gloves…who wears driving gloves in a Ford?' _He laughed to himself as he picked them up and slipped them on. They were a little tight but he didn't care. His hands needed all the protection they could get.

Racing back to the interior of the house, he first located both bloody daggers and shoved them into the back pocket of his jeans, the force he'd driven them in with pushing them straight through the pocket and out the bottom as they stuck out like knitting needles stuffed through a ball of yarn. He made a mental note not to sit in the car until he dug those out, knowing that would probably not be the best of ideas for his back or rear end today. He then picked up Dean's soiled jacket and threw it over his shoulder, Dean's soiled jacket that had once been John's before him and Bobby knew he would want that back, no matter how bloody it was. With nothing left of value to either Winchester or himself, he turned to face the blood-ringed trap next to him, forcing down the bile rising in his throat as he stared at it for what he prayed would be the last time.

Ripping the top of the box of salt clean off, he swung his arms in an arced pattern, sending the sacred condiment in various directions over the expanse of the wooden floor it made him sick to look at. Emptying the box almost completely, he poured what remained at the bottom over the very dead body of what had been Iliana, feeling nothing but heartache for the woman that had housed her and had been sacrificed for nothing. Tossing the box aside, he doused the body and entire area with what he was now sure by the smell was gasoline sitting in the red container and without a second thought, struck a match from the book he'd pulled from a pocket, lit the entire bunch and tossed it into the ring, wanting nothing more than to stand there and watch it burn as it triumphantly ignited, sending flames up high. He couldn't though; he had more important things to do. Catching a glimpse of Sam's filthy, blood-soaked jacket in the corner of his eye, he swiped a hand at it and grasped it in his fingers as he quickly made his way towards the door, leaving the god forsaken house to burn behind.

He did sit at the end of the driveway to watch the smoke billow its way into the clear sky above for a little while after he had tossed the tire and jack into the back seat until he was sure he had heard the faint sounds of sirens blaring by and without any further thought, put the car into drive and drove off, leaving nothing of theirs behind. Turning left at the end of the drive, he drove the short distance back to the Impala quickly and breathed a sigh of relief to see it still sitting there, albeit now with a red sticker plastered to the windshield indicating it was about ready to be towed.

Grabbing Dean's jacket, he panicked as he dug through the pockets in a frantic search for the keys. Dean may respect the man, hell, probably loved him like a father, but if Bobby even thought about smashing one of her windows to gain entry to the vehicle, Bobby would probably be a dead man. Pulling out various useless items one by one, he did find Dean's phone tucked inside, his good fortune obviously taking a coffee break when he flipped it open and saw it was dead. _'Dead like Dean had been'_ he morbidly thought as he continued rummaging through the pockets until he joyously found what he had been searching for.

Hastily exiting the shiny red Ford POS, he grabbed what he had left in the back seat and immediately went to work changing the tire on the soon-to-be impounded Chevy in front of him. He made quick work of the whole process, it taking about five minutes from start to finish and when he was done, he threw everything into the trunk. The flat, the jack, the bloody jackets, everything. Unlocking the driver's door and climbing inside, he found Sam's phone on the seat next to him and smiled once again when he saw the little red light flashing. It still had power, hopefully enough to call Sam to find out what the hell was going on.

Flipping the cell open, he was surprised to see two missed calls, both from him and both within the last hour, which meant Sam had been trying to reach him. Pressing the talk button and letting the phone dial the last number called, his own number, he waited as patiently as he could for Sam to answer. He was sure his voicemail would pick up as the fourth ring started but he nearly cheered when he finally heard Sam's familiar voice on the other end. It held no emotion and for a second, that scared him.

"Sam, I'm on my way. I'll be there in half an hour," he quickly spit out as he started Dean's car, the heavy sigh he heard from the man at the other end of the call making him freeze as a chill ran up and down his spine.

"Don't bother coming Bobby, we won't be here," was all he heard before the beeping started and before he could open his mouth, the phone shut itself off, totally out of juice.

_End Notes: Sorry for wanting to give Bobby a little spotlight!! Hope you all don't hate me for it. Thanks for reading...only two more to go, I think!!_


	19. Chapter 19

**Author's Notes: Sorry it took so long to post this but it took a long time to write it for some reason. Sorry it's so long too but there was no way of splitting it up. Hope it meets with everyone's approval!**

Chapter 19

Sam was convinced Bobby must have installed some kind of self-driving, self navigating GPS system in the beat-up old pick-up truck since he'd last been in it because no sooner had he climbed into the cab, taken a quick glance in his brother's direction as he sat next to him with his head plastered against the window to insure he was still breathing and started the engine to initiate his mad dash to the emergency room, he was somehow crossing the Chester city limits with Dean's head now resting hot and heavily against his leg as he blindly drove at a ridiculous rate of speed, his brother's breaths coming in nothing more than short, quick gasps of air that seemed to be doing little good as some kind of fluid rolled around inside his lungs. Scanning the piece of paper he had unconsciously been clutching in his left hand as he drove with his right arm resting on Dean's quivering shoulder and occasionally talking nonsense to his brother that couldn't really hear a word he was saying, he quickly noticed that finding Liberty Medical Center was not going to be very difficult since it was now gloriously standing directly in front of him.

Driving up to within just a few feet of the door, he jumped from the driver's seat and started wrapping his arms around Dean's heaving chest to drag him from the vehicle when the thought that that would probably be a very bad idea flooded into his head, the earlier sounds of crunching ribs as he tried pounding life back into his brother's dead body the traditional way echoed horribly in his ears. Slamming the driver's door shut, he raced to the passenger side and threw that door open wide instead. Grabbing his brother by the feet, he quickly but carefully dragged his lower half out legs first until they dangled limply off the bench seat. Leaning his long body back inside, he wrapped his arms around Dean's back and placed a hand behind his head while cradling him gingerly as he drew him up into a sitting position. Without taking even a second to catch his own breath, he bent at the waist, buried his shoulder into Dean's abdominals and as Dean's upper body fell slightly forward onto Sam's back, he wrapped his arms under Dean's thighs and lifted him up off the seat, slinging his body as gently as humanly possible over his shoulder and holding onto him with dear life around his backside in the hopes of keeping the brunt of his weight off Dean's already battered chest. Dean never made a sound as his head, arms, and upper body were first jerkily lifted up over Sam's shoulders; then hung limply against Sam's back as Sam kicked the door shut, turned on his heels and ran through the double doors that were practically right in front of him, screaming for someone, anyone, to come to his aid.

"I need some help here please," his voice boomed inside the very small and very empty reception area as all four heads present in the limited confines snapped around instantaneously in his direction, the sound of his panicked bellow shocking them all momentarily until they actually realized what was happening and sprung into action.

All four rushed forward in unison shoving a gurney in front of them to meet Sam halfway across the room and as they approached him, he stopped dead in his tracks, seemingly unable to move forward another step. His legs had visibly started to shake at the knees as he stood there numbly staring at the four staff members that were now within an arm's reach of him and he breathed a heavy sigh of relief when he felt the stretcher bump gently into his leg, not sure he could support his brother's dead weight along with his own anymore. Lowering Dean's lax body down slowly onto the mattress as one of what Sam could only assume by the uniform was one of a pair of EMTs grabbed his brother under the armpits and carefully guided him down, he nearly fell to the floor when the weight was entirely lifted and they actually started to talk to him. He hadn't been prepared for questions that he wasn't sure he could answer yet.

"Holy shit! This guy's burning up bad!" The lone male of the medical quartet blurted out as he felt the intense heat pouring out from every inch of Dean's limp form and he was unable to hold his tongue yet again when his eyes fell on the even more disturbing vision that had been revealed to them all when Dean's body was repositioned on the gurney and stretched out for them all to get a good look at. "Oh Christ, he's covered in blood!"

"Get him inside fast and page Dr. Richards!" The only casually dressed woman in the bunch barked at the EMT's female partner and she took off in one direction as the woman in scrubs that was probably a nurse, the male paramedic, the casually dressed young woman and Sam all took off with Dean in 

another.

Using the stretcher as somewhat of a battering ran to plow their way forward, they pushed Dean through a large set of heavy double doors as they started bouncing questions off Sam one after another in quick succession while they rushed to the nearest triage area; questions Sam knew he better answer fast even though they seemed to be coming at him in slow motion. Everything seemed to be coming at him in slow motion for some strange reason.

"What the hell happened to this guy?" The nameless, bulked up paramedic that was nearly as tall as Sam and probably twice his size rather abruptly asked first in a rather booming voice as the petite, middle-aged nurse opened Dean's flannel and lifted the blood stained t-shirt up enough to expose the swollen, mottled flesh underneath with an obviously decent sized puncture wound located dead center of it. The skin surrounding the wound had gradually swollen enough to pinch the rather gaping hole in his side shut, effectually preventing Dean from ultimately bleeding more than likely to death.

"He got sick, really sick, then he…umm…he…" Sam seemed to stammer while scratching his head as he ran a million and one excuses for the knife wound in his brother's side through his harried brain, not liking the sound of any of them and knowing if he couldn't come up with a good one the police would be the next logical call they made after paging Dr. Whatever-his-name-was.

"Come on buddy, we don't have all day here," the medic demanded again in a not so nice tone this time.

The rather calm, quiet woman in jeans and a heavy lilac sweater that had ordered the uniformed partner of the overly assertive, overly large paramedic to call for a doctor finally spoke up when she saw Sam's face go nearly white and she could see that they weren't going to get any answers they needed the way he was talking to the shocked kid clad in nothing but jeans and a t-shirt what was covered in blood that obviously wasn't his own. Pulling him slightly to the side and standing in front of him to keep him out of eyeshot of the frantic scene before them as the nurse and the medic scrambled around the tiny cubicle-sized area but keeping him close enough for everyone in the general vicinity to still be able to hear what he had to say, she asked the questions that desperately needed answers in a calm, soothing tone as an older man in a gleaming white coat that was more than likely the doctor being called for approached them quickly.

"Hey, what's your name?" She gently started out as she listened carefully to not only what he was going to say but to what was going on behind her while she shifted to the left and right along with Sam's darting eyes, essentially blocking his vision enough to finally garner his attention when he looked at her somewhat glaringly.

"Sam. My name is Sam," he answered, moving his head from side to side in tune with her body as he was still trying to catch a glimpse of what was going on across the room.

"Hi Sam, my name is Sophia. Do you think you can tell us what happened to…"

"Dean, my brother Dean…" he started and she gently replied as she guided the conversation in the direction she wanted it to go in and not where the clearly distressed young man towering over her would take it, which was probably nowhere fast.

"Ok Sam, tell me what happened to your brother? How did he get that wound in his side?"

"He…umm…" Sam still hadn't gotten a clue of any kind whatsoever what to say until he heard Bobby's words start to echo in his head, words he almost wished he had never heard in the first place. _'We told them he fell on the knife….and he was so sick they actually believed it,' _the man had said as he relayed the horrid events of what his father had done to his brother nearly ten years ago and figured if it worked once, it would probably work again. Only this time, Sam would put his own little spin on it to make it so unbelievable it would probably be believed. Who said Dean was the only Winchester that could be a master of deception? Confident he had a well organized line of bullshit ready to go; he opened his mouth to speak but was immediately silenced by the other voices in the room that took precedence over his own at the moment.

"God damn, his temps up to 105.6," he heard the other female voice call out, obviously the nurse's voice, and if it was even possible, Sophia saw Sam's face pale even more than it already had since entering the treatment area. The next comments that came out from both the doctor and the nurse nearly made him go totally white when he heard them and Sophia was pretty sure Sam was getting ready to vomit at any second as she listened as well.

"Shit, the vein blew already. Start a midline peripheral line… I have a feeling we're gonna need it anyway," the doctor's voice was now echoing through Sam's head right alongside the nurse's and he could feel his empty stomach start churning. He was actually pretty thankful for once that it was totally empty because if it hadn't been, it definitely would be now and the room wouldn't smell like just hospital 

antiseptic anymore.

"His pupils are fixed and dilated," back to the nurse and Sam noticed his own respiratory rate was starting to increase dramatically. Sophia had to divert his attention and she knew she had to do it now.

"Sam, please…we need to know what happened," Sophia grabbed him gently by the chin and directed his eyes down to her and as his gaze fell back onto her face, he somewhat mindlessly started to speak.

"We thought he just had a cold, you know? He was tired, had a cough, slight fever, the usual. I tried to get him to take it easy, but he's so stubborn. He refuses to admit when he's sick and walks around like nothing's ever wrong. Next thing I knew, he could barely breathe, had a raging fever and had become delirious. He was breathing really heavy and…" he paused and sucked in a deep breath with his head bowed as he let the lone tear that had formed in the corner of his eye stream down his haggard face.

"It's ok Sam, just take it slow. We need to know exactly what happened so we can treat him properly," she tried comforting him as she spoke to him softly and rested a warm hand on his now shivering arm, giving it a slight, reassuring squeeze. It was enough to let him know she was buying what he was selling and he continued with his elaborate charade.

"He was breathing so hard and heavy, saying something like he just needed to get out whatever was in his chest that was drowning him and the next thing I knew… he just stabbed himself. I didn't think he was that sick until he…I mean, I would have sto…I just… it, it just happened so fast I couldn't stop him. He collapsed onto the floor and stopped breathing and…" Sam's voice trailed off as the unfamiliar timbre of the doctor's voice cut through the thick air, immediately silencing Sam so he could listen instead of continuing to explain.

"Sophie, I need you over here…now," he called to her and it became very clear that something of major importance was going on without them behind their backs. Raising a finger to Sam to indicate he should wait right where he was, she turned around and faced the small disaster going on behind them both that Sam had somehow stopped paying attention to during his partially fabricated explanation. Dean had actually stabbed himself after all, but they really didn't need to know the real reason why.

"Ben, what's wrong?" She whispered, not really wanting Sam to hear what he may need to tell her but knowing there really was no way around it.

"We can't do anything for him here. We need to…" was as far as he got before Sam piped up, not bothering to wait for the rest of what the doctor was trying to say to come out.

"What are you saying? You're just gonna let my brother die? God damn it, you have to do something," Sam started yelling at the very surprised doctor in the long white coat and the very startled nurse standing at his side as he rushed forward and the beefy medic that had been working feverishly on Dean over the last few minutes with the two of them stepped in and quickly grabbed Sam's rapidly advancing form, placing him firmly in a bear hug to prevent him from doing anything stupid that he would most definitely regret later. Turning his anguished gaze back onto Sophia when he realized he had no wiggle room in the nearly perfectly executed wrestler's hold he was now trapped in, he let the remainder of the tears trapped behind his eyes start rolling down his cheeks as his body went rigid and he softly cried out in a near beg to the young woman returning his stare with a long, solemn look written across her face. "Please… after all he's been through already, there's got to be something you can do for him."

"Hold you're horses there Hoss. Nobody said anything about just letting your brother die. Janice, my partner over there, and I are just getting him ready to load him up in our ambulance sitting right outside to take him somewhere a little better equipped to handle what he needs, that's all. Now, if you promise not to go all Denzel on anyone, I'll let you go. Deal?" The medic holding Sam in the death grip must have said the magic words because the second he was done telling Sam in a small nutshell what was going to happen, his tension eased a little and the burly man slowly let him loose.

All eyes were trained on Sam for the longest moment, waiting anxiously to see exactly what he was going to do now that he was free of the restraining grasp. When they heard his heavy hearted sigh and saw his shoulders slump as his eyes drifted over first to his brother then to a chair in the corner, they all almost breathed a heavy sigh of relief of their own. Sophia wasted no time guiding the terrified young man over to the awaiting seat and directed him to sit down with barely any force necessary. He just stared up into her soft, green eyes that looked remarkably a lot like Dean's as she smiled somewhat reassuringly to him and for now, that would have to be enough.

"I've got to help them take care of your brother Sam, but as soon as we're ready go, I promise you get the seat right next to him. For now though, why don't you wait right here. It's probably better if you don't watch what's going on anyway and trust me when I say we are going to do everything within our power to help Dean, ok?" Her voice was calm and soothing to his overly taxed brain and the only answer he could 

really provide to her was the subtle shake of his head.

She had been right about one thing; he really didn't want to see what they were doing anymore. The quick glance he had taken right before sitting himself down in the chair before he fell down had definitely been enough. Most of Dean's face had been obscured by the oxygen mask strapped over his nose and mouth and what little he could see of it was horribly flushed with fever. They had cut off his bloodied shirts and discarded them somewhere to attach electrodes to monitor his heart in various places across his upper body and from what Sam could see of his chest, he hoped it was just an ugly shadow falling across his brother's shuddering frame making it that dark, ominous color he couldn't even begin to describe with even the best of adjectives. Janice had found her way into the frenzied mix of damage control and he could only watch her briefly as she cleaned and dressed the deep laceration Dean had sliced into the palm of his left hand, the wound that interestingly not one of them had questioned him about. He couldn't stop the shiver that ran through him like a jolt of electricity when he saw how Dean's fingers hung loosely at such an odd, unnatural angle and Sam knew without a shadow of a doubt that he had seen enough which was a little scary to him when he realized as Sophia walked away from him and directly to Dean that they still weren't done yet. Deciding he needed a distraction of just about any kind at the moment, he decided he didn't care about hospital rules one iota and pulled out Bobby's phone from his jeans pocket to make a quick call as Sophia started whispering to the doctor that Sam still couldn't remember what his name was…Richards, he thought, but really didn't care.

"What do you need?" She asked as quietly as she possibly could, noticing Sam was occupied for the moment with a phone firmly clutched in his hand.

"I don't need a chest x-ray to tell me he's got a serious case of pneumonia that's obviously progressed well beyond pneumonia now. I need you to insert a chest tube for me and hopefully it'll make a little room so his lungs can actually take in some decent air while I go call the hospital in Havre to warn them of what they're in for, assuming he makes it there alive. His temperature is way too high, his respiration is way too shallow, his blood pressure and heart rate are all over the map and so far he's been totally non-responsive to any and all stimuli. I'd hate to see the results of the EEG they're going to have to run because I have a bad feeling it's not going to be good and judging by what's more than likely numerous fractured ribs I can probably make a pretty educated guess as to why. Honestly, I can't even figure out how the hell he's still breathing right now at all with that damn near death rattle he's got going on in his chest," he told her quietly when her eyes trailed over to Sam as the doctor just shook his head and tapped his foot rapidly against the floor. "Oh, and the knife wound…I'm not even touching that. I'm telling you, I'll be amazed if that guy is alive in the morning."

"Is he really that bad?" She had to ask in as hushed a tone as she possibly could when she saw that Sam was no longer on the phone and staring blankly in her direction, but the look she saw on his face when she brought her stare back in Ben's direction answered the question even before it was asked and her own face went slightly grim.

"Yeah Sophie, it's really that bad. Just get that chest tube in and I'll be right back so we can get him out of here. I highly doubt he'd even notice what you were doing to him, but I already anesthetized the area anyway. I didn't really want to move him until we could get him stabilized, but I'm not sure we can even do that at this point," he whispered before turning and walking hurriedly away and she turned to Dean and started doing what Ben had asked her to do as Sam watched her warily while she began.

She didn't bother to don a protective cover of any kind, opting instead to pull her heavy sweater over her head and off her petite frame, leaving her in a plain, white turtleneck that she wore underneath. Folding the garment neatly and placing it in a cabinet, she turned on the hot water and started scrubbing her hands as the nurse that had been there since the onset wiped down Dean's side and chest with antiseptic, leaving an orange trail behind as she cleansed the entire area. Sophia dried her hands quickly and snapped on a pair of gloves as the nurse covered Dean's entire chest and side in sterile drapes, leaving a small square exposed for her to do her work through.

With the scalpel handed to her by the ever-present nurse that seemed to be doing it all now firmly grasped in her hand, she proceeded to quickly make a small incision through the skin and muscle, sliding her finger into the hole she had just made to clear a path for the tube that she just as quickly slid inside and sutured into place as the nurse took care of hooking up the other end. She could not believe the dark, heavy bruising covering almost Dean's entire chest as she pressed her hand against his swollen side and somehow she just knew what had obviously caused all that damage. Stripping off her gloves and tossing them onto the table next to her, she cautiously walked over to Sam and knelt down next to him, looking him directly in the eye as she rested her hand on his knee.

"Hey Sam, can I ask you a question?" She cautiously inquired, knowing that he had just watched every move she had made since taking that sharp blade to his brother's chest, even though he tried to make it look like he hadn't been.

"Yeah, sure," he answered rather hesitantly, giving her the permission she was asking for.

She phrased it and rephrased it over and over in her head, wanting to pose the sensitive question as delicately as possible, the question that there really was no delicate way of posing, but she tried her best to do it gently anyway. "Remember when you said your brother stopped breathing?" She paused for just a second, but decided to continue when their eyes never broke contact as Sam just shook his head. "Did his heart stop too?"

Sam never answered with words; he just shook his head again to tell her what she wanted to know. She was starting to tread on thin ice where Sam's fragile emotions were concerned now and she could clearly sense it. She was amazed that he had actually held himself together this long. "Do you know how long he was in cardiac arrest before you started CPR?"

Sam's eyes misted up just a little when the memories of his failed attempt at reviving his brother as he crushed Dean's ribs under his frantic chest compressions crossed his mind and this time he did verbally answer her. "How did you know I …" he started to ask, but she cut him off quickly when she saw that his eyes weren't just misting anymore.

"I think you broke some ribs, that's all. Nothing unusual, we see it all the time. You probably saved his life, so I think he'll forgive you for a few broken bones," she informed him with a warm grin.

"I don't know, it was a few minutes before he started breathing again but how many I really couldn't tell you," he told her as his mind wandered. _'Wasn't exactly the CPR that saved his life,' _Sam thought to himself as he anemically returned her smile and she patted him on the leg as she rose back into a stand when she saw Ben coming at her from the corner of her eye and motioning for her to start heading in his direction.

"I think we're just about ready to head out. Wait here, I'll be right back," she instructed him like he was a small child, which he somewhat appreciated. Someone else needed to be in charge right now because he sure as hell didn't want to be and Bobby wasn't here to do it.

Thinking of Bobby, he flipped open the man's phone that he had been playing with mindlessly in his hands for the last few minutes and tried calling him again, not having any real concept of time and even less of a clue as to how long it had been since he tried him last. He could have been sitting there for ten minutes or ten hours, he honestly didn't know the difference anymore. He dialed the number and let it ring its obligatory four rings before dumping him into voicemail and just hit the end button before shoving it back into his back pocket like a robot and decided to just watch Sophia instead. He couldn't hear anything she was saying, but her face wasn't overcome with that grim look it had taken on earlier and he just relaxed slightly in his seat and watched her talk to the much older doctor engaging her in conversation.

"Northern Montana Hospital is ready and waiting for his arrival so the sooner we get him out of here and over there, the better," Ben started, and then cleared his throat as he looked at Sam before finishing. "I think you should go with them. That kid there looks like he's lost in the dark and seriously needs a hand to hold on to right now."

"Are you sure? I mean, we were supposed to be spending the day together, remember?" She asked him, surprised that he had just voiced exactly what she had just been thinking.

"Sweetheart, there's a reason why I was running an hour behind and you were here at this exact moment today and you know what I always say, everything happens for a reason. It's ok, you go ahead and go with them. You just do whatever you need to do to make sure he gets there alive, ok?"

"Ok, if you insist. But you owe me lunch and a movie and I plan on collecting."

"And I promise I'll pay. Get going, ok? Oh, and say hi to your mother for me."

"Why? So she can say 'Tell your father to drop dead for me' like she always does? Forget it, you say hi to her yourself."

"Nothing changes, does it? Never mind, don't answer that. Just call me when things settle down and let me know what happens, ok."

"You know I will," she smiled and gave him a hard kiss on his cheek before turning to head back in Sam's direction, waving one more time as she blew him a kiss and called before making her way back to Sam. "I love you Daddy."

In the short time she had been talking to her father, Janice and her still nameless partner had covered Dean's bare upper body with a thick, gray blanket, loosely strapped him to the gurney, fastened all the 

loose hoses and tubes down securely as they placed various pieces of machinery in open areas around him and indicated to the pretty, young doctor that they were ready to roll. She gave them an affirmative nod as she walked rapidly back to Sam, grabbing a neatly folded blanket off one of the empty beds she passed on her way and opening it as she approached. Draping it over his hunched shoulders and bare arms as he sat shivering in the hard, plastic chair staring at her, he realized for the first time that he had left the house in nothing but a dirty t-shirt. No coat, no over-shirt, no nothing. No wonder he was shivering, at least that's what he told himself anyway.

"Thanks," was his one word expression of gratitude as he really could muster no more.

"You ready to go?" She asked, pinching her lips together and motioning towards the door with a slight nod of her head.

"Ready as I'll ever be," he answered as he made a concerted effort to stand. He hadn't even noticed that his brother was long gone already as he followed her out, barely making it to the door when the phone in his pocket started vibrating violently against his backside. Pausing only long enough to pull the cell from his pocket, he pressed the talk button hard with his still bloodied thumb and answered the call that caller id indicated was coming from his own phone, meaning it could only be one person calling.

"Bobby," he addressed the man on the other end, his voice almost totally devoid of any emotion whatsoever. Sometime in the last few minutes, his brain had decided it needed a small break from reality and let itself go numb and it came across loud and clear in Sam's voice as he spoke.

"Sam, I'm on my way. I'll be there in half an hour," he heard him ramble, the unmistakable roar of the Impala's engine as Bobby turned it over giving him both a small feeling of comfort and a slight chill up his spine all at the same time.

"Don't bother coming Bobby, we won't be here," he told him before hearing the tell-tale click of the call being lost. He had made it to the ambulance doors as he walked while he talked and that chill that had mildly crept up his spine when he heard the sound of Dean's car being brought to life with the turn of a key was now sprinting back and forth at the pace of a cheetah when he looked inside and saw Sophia sitting next to the head of the bed containing his brother and doing something to Dean as he lay nearly invisible with his back raised slightly, his overheated body buried under a blanket and layers of plastic obscuring his face. He hit the talk button quickly but pressed the end button just as fast when he immediately heard his own voice coming through the little speaker against his ear. Holding the phone firmly in his fist, he finally climbed inside and sat as close to the entrance as he possibly could as Janice slammed both doors shut and ran around to the passenger seat of the already running emergency vehicle and they all started off on what would a rather long, nerve-wracking drive.

They drove in near silence, at least near silence to Sam considering he wasn't really listening to a word either one of the medics in the front were saying to each other and Sophia didn't want to interrupt what she thought to be the deep thoughts he had buried himself in. So, in near silence Sam just sat listening to the heart monitors beeping tell him that Dean was still alive and letting the drone of the tires on the pavement as the engine hummed calm him, the monotonous sounds soothing his overly frazzled nerves. Resting his head against the wall next to him, he just stared out the little window on the back door and watched the scenery whip by, scenery he remembered seeing days ago that hadn't taken the ugly appearance they seemed to have now. With his eyes half open, he caught something black out of the corner of his eye and by his calculations it didn't take a math professor to figure out just what exactly it had to be they had just passed.

"Stop! Pull over!!" He screamed as he reached for the door handle and started to turn it, the shock of the frantic yelp forcing the burly man driving to jam hard on the brakes which sent everything not secured down flying forward, Sophia included.

When the ambulance finally screeched to a sudden halt, Sam twisted and shoved, throwing the door open wide as he jumped out and ran the distance between himself and Dean's car, still sitting running on the side of the road. His frenzied pounding on the driver's side window scared the man sitting behind the wheel in the seat enough to make him visibly jump and draw the gun that had been resting directly next to him, but when he looked up and saw who it was trying to break the window with a closed fist, he dropped the weapon and cranked the window open as fast as he could.

"Sam, what in the hell is going on? Don't either one of you two dumb asses have a charger for your phones in this god damn car?" Bobby scolded, the thought that if Sam just jumped from the back of an ambulance that had lights flashing like his hair was on fire clearly told him that Dean had to still be alive in the back. Now he knew what Sam had meant but didn't have a chance to tell him. They wouldn't be there because they were heading somewhere else.

"No time to explain. Just follow us and I'll tell you everything when we get there," Sam nearly ordered but waited for no response as he turned around and ran back to the awaiting vehicle, pulling the door closed behind him after he climbed back inside.

"Can we go now?" Burly man irritatedly asked as he threw Sam a cross look from his seat behind the wheel and Sam finally decided he didn't like the man, not one bit.

"Yeah…go," he nearly barked back, the anger that was starting to well making his hands start to shake.

"Sam," Sophia spoke to him softly, always willing to be his much needed diversion when it came to the interaction between the two. "Why did we have to stop and who was that?"

"That was the person I've been trying to call for hours now whose phone has been dead. He's the only other family Dean and I have. I didn't have any other way of telling him were we were going. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…"

"It's ok. It looks like he's going to follow us there. I hope he can keep up in that old car of his."

"That old car is Dean's, and trust me, it'll keep up."

She said nothing else, just smiled that warm, fuzzy smile at Sam that seemed to do the trick every time on his brain as she leaned back against the wall next to her. The rest of the trip was spent in total silence, front and back. Sophia was constantly watching Dean as Sam was constantly watching out the back window to make sure Bobby was right behind them, which he was for each and every mile of the long ride. The tires squealed harshly against the pavement when the brakes were jammed on for the second time when they had finally made it to the emergency room doors some thirty minutes later.

The back doors were thrown open wide by people from the outside and before Sam could take a breath of fresh air, the stretcher and Sophia were long gone and racing in. Sam had no intentions of them going anywhere without them and quickly climbed out, catching up to them as fast as his long legs would carry him. Nobody said a word to him until he tried following them all through the 'Restricted' doors. He felt a heavy hand on his chest start to say 'You can't go…' only to be cut off abruptly by Sophia's suddenly authoritative voice boldly stating the opposite.

"Let him in," she nearly ordered, her soft, gentle tone gone, replaced by a commanding timbre instead. Sam silently slid himself into a corner and watched with wide eyes as they started the hurried actions all over again and he suddenly wasn't sure he wanted to be here anymore.

"Ok people; let's start with some glamour shots of his chest please. I need to see what's going on inside there," she stated first as she pulled the heavy blanket from Dean's body now that the straps had been unfastened.

From his spot in the corner, Sam had an all-too-clear view of everything, the abrupt removal of the blanket exposing not only the tube running into the hole Sophia had made in his side but the very large, nearly black mark dead center of his brother's chest that was surrounded by smaller black marks to the left and right. He sucked in a deep breath but couldn't stop the words that forced their way out of his mouth as he stared at the damage he had done with his own two hands. "Oh my god, did I do that?"

"Dr. Richards, something's wrong here," someone called out as Sam's vision started to haze at the corners, the sounds of the monitor's unsteady beeping turning into a long, obnoxious drone causing the room's relentless spin in various directions to begin. Blindly reaching for something, anything, to steady himself against, Sam found nothing and as he felt his body slowly start to slump to the floor, the last thing he heard Sophia say before everything went dark was enough to make him not want to come back from wherever it was he was going.

"He's crashing…someone get the cart!"


	20. Chapter 20

**Author's Notes: Ok, just a little random weirdness before I finish this one up. Thanks again to everyone that read and enjoyed!**

**Oh, quick note: Naamah is listed in various texts as being the human wife Azazel took after his expulsion from heaven. Just seems fitting that she'd become a demon after she died, or at least that's my thought anyway.**

Chapter 20

She strolled casually up and down the hall like she belonged there; her long, curly blonde hair that accentuated her nearly flawless face and her strikingly intense blue eyes that shimmered in the fluorescent light overhead garnering her the occasional, testosterone fueled ogle from the orderlies or male doctors and the more frequent jealous glares from the nurses and female doctors that passed by, yet not one soul ever stopped to question her presence, leaving her free to continue her patient pacing of the bustling emergency room floor as she waited for them to arrive. She knew they would be coming as much as she knew that 'he' would be coming and it was the presence of the 'he' that concerned her. She felt Sam's presence before she ever physically saw him at nearly the same instant she felt 'his' as well and as Sam raced paced her hot on Dean's trail without even taking a first glance in her direction, she felt 'his' rigid body pressed hard against her back as he whispered in her ear.

"Naamah," his voice was commanding even in its hushed tone. Turning her body around to face him, she returned the greeting in an overly unsurprised voice.

"Gabriel, so nice to see you again," she smiled as her eyes drifted up to the equally glistening blue ones that glared back down at her, his dominating frame standing nearly a foot taller than her own. "The angel of death himself. To what do we owe the honor of your esteemed presence? What's the matter, having a hard time finding good help these days?"

"Oh, I think you already know why I'm here, don't you?" He stated it as a question, a question that really wasn't a question considering they both already knew full well what the answer was. "That was a pretty dirty trick you pulled, don't you think?"

"Why, whatever do you mean?" She asked him coyly as she batted her thick eyelashes at him suggestively.

"Dean's time has long since come and you and your kind have interfered with mine long enough," he answered her angrily, the harsh sound of his voice making the lights in the hall dim slightly before his silence brought them back to their full intensity.

"Well, maybe you shouldn't have sent his mother to come and collect him then. Once I gently reminded her of her younger son's impending fate, Mary was more than willing to give Dean the option to stay for little Sammy's sake, although I really gotta hand it to her, she didn't make the 

decision an easy one for him. She knows what could very well be in store for Sam if he makes the wrong choices and she also knows that with Dean and John both gone, there's absolutely nothing left to stop the inevitable," she taunted him somewhat, keeping her real motives for wanting Dean to live to herself for the moment.

"Enough!" He bellowed and for the briefest of moments all motion ceased around them until the gentle wave of his finger rendered them nearly invisible to all the eyes that had suddenly trained on them both as they stood just beyond the curtain that hid the hurried actions behind it. "I am here to take him where he belongs; where he should have been taken ten years ago before Belial's minions interfered. Unlike the others that I have sent for him in the past, you can not possess me to stop me or make any deals with me to stop me, so frankly, you cannot stop me. I am taking him and that's that." He stared down at her coldly and snapped his fingers in a sharp, quick motion and she frowned slightly when she heard what the action instigated just outside of their eyeshot on the other side of the drawn barrier.

"Dr. Richards, something's wrong here," she heard a female voice call out as the heart monitor mimicking Dean's own beat started it's random, fast paced beeping and as she turned her gaze from the curtain she tried so hard to see through back to Gabriel's unyielding face, he triumphantly smiled at her. The chilling upturn of the corners of his mouth came simultaneously with the now steady hum of the machine, followed by the sound of someone else's body falling hard to the floor and she knew she would have to talk fast if she was going to get anywhere.

"What will it take for you to let him live?" She nearly begged; her tone deadly serious as she tried to listen carefully to the background chatter while she did her best to fast talk the angel into changing his mind.

(_He's crashing…someone get the cart!)_

"I really don't understand why you want him to live so badly after trying so hard to kill him with his own father as the weapon. Isn't he just a thorn in your side anyway? He's not exactly a key player in your pathetic little master plan to rule the demon world," he huffed, ignoring her question altogether as the death buzz continued to wail. "Lucifer really didn't pick the most loyal of followers to take with him when he got bounced out on his ear, did he?"

_(Shit…we've got a dropper! Someone get this guy off the floor and outta here please!)_

"Quite the contrary in regards to the Winchesters. You know as well as I do that we are going to need Dean around when all hell breaks loose now that their idiot father made his deal for the wrong son," she admitted rather sheepishly, the look on her face indicating she knew that he knew exactly what she was referring to even though he refused to acknowledge anything she said. As far as he was concerned, she could say whatever she wanted and it didn't really matter to him, he wasn't budging. "As for Lucifer, well…his choice of friends is his problem."

(_I've got no respiration and no pulse…we need to bag him… starting CPR.)_

"You realize that none of this matters to us, don't you. You have made your beds, now you can lie in them with the people you so readily corrupt that are so willing to eat from your hands when you promise them everything their hearts desire. You have turned the world into nothing more than a filthy cesspool of evil and hate that Dean no longer has a place in. He's done his time and then some, no thanks to you and the rest of the fallen. I won't be conned into leaving him here just to suit your means."

_(Charging…clear… nothing…)_

"Really? Not even in trade for the three innocent souls that are going to die before Sam, or more so because of Sam? What if I agree to let you have them, you know, like a consolation prize? You leave Dean here and when the time comes; the Cold Oak dead are all yours. Hell, I'll even throw in the fool that ends up thinking he's the winner and opens the gate free of charge. Come on, that's four for the price of one…well, make that two if you include Sam in the deal. We keep him. Sounds like a bargain to me. Those kids never did anything to deserve what's in store for them, now did they?"

(_Hit him again…charging…clear…)_

"And what makes you think that Sam is the answer to all your demonic prayers?" He curiously mused as he considered her offer. He knew better when it came to Sam, he knew Sam would never bow down to them but what she didn't know wouldn't really hurt her.

"You've already seen what he can do. Bringing Dean back from the dead with nothing but the raw emotion he had pent up inside was just the tip of the iceberg. He'll make an incredible general in our army, but he has to die and have a little taste of hell to become one of us first and the only way to bring him back from that is with Dean. You know how it is, can't resurrect the dead without someone trading themselves for it first."

_(Still got nothing…one more time…)_

"So, you're telling me that if I let Dean live to be a pawn in your silly little game of 'King of the Hell Hill', you'll give me what's left of the special children?"

"Yes, that's exactly what I'm telling you and since I know how much you angels want to save as many of these poor, innocent souls as you can down here, how could you possibly refuse? They didn't make the choice to become what they are, it was made for them and this is heaven's one and only chance to make things right," She answered quickly, knowing that her time had run very, very short.

_(Charging… clear…)_

"I want them all, not just those four. All the dead from your ridiculous 'battle to the death' matches in Cold Oak," he flatly stated, the response not registering in her head right away.

"All of them?" She questioned with raised eyebrows, stunned that not only was he even contemplating agreeing to her terms but sweetening the pot for himself. When it came to making deals, angels and demons were cut from the same cloth it seemed.

"All of them," he forcefully reiterated. "I believe that totals into the hundreds by now, doesn't it?"

"Probably. You do drive a hard bargain Gabriel, but consider it done," she readily accepted his terms, knowing the Cold Oak losers meant nothing to them in their grand scheme of things.

"We have a deal then," he ruefully sighed even though he knew what he had done had been the right thing to do but mentally scorning himself for falling into her devilish trap and abandoning Dean to an almost certain hell. He glanced over to the curtain and snapped his fingers once again as she held her breath and listened carefully.

"I've got a pulse, it's weak but it's there," she heard someone announce from behind the veil of privacy as the long, droning hum finally started it's rhythmic beeping again and she couldn't help but smile as she responded to his comment. She didn't need to listen anymore; she knew Dean's body would live to fight another day, at least for now.

"Yes, we have a deal," she answered, barely able to hide her glee and he visibly shuddered when she unnaturally stretched her frame up far enough to kiss him firmly on the lips. "What's the matter Gabe, never been kissed by a girl before?"

"It's Gabriel, and you truly are evil, aren't you? It's no wonder he chose you to stand by his side. You serve him well. Goodbye Naamah, I'll see you in Cold Oak," he turned from her gracefully and nearly glided away as she stood there with an ever widening smile spread across her face, knowing she had dodged one bullet but still seeing one more coming in her direction. She may have Gabriel off her back but there were still others of her own kind to contend with for Dean's ultimate fate, others that wanted nothing more then to see the man dead and gone and no longer a threat. Unfortunately for her, to make that that nasty, still flying projectile miss its mark, she would need to talk to Sam. Right now though, Sam wasn't talking to anyone. Slowly and silently drawing the curtain back so she could see what was happening, she just leaned against the wall behind her and stood still and watched them work at keeping Dean's battered body alive.

"Pulse is steady, temps down to 104 but he's still not breathing on his own," one of the nurses announced and for the first time she heard the whooshing sounds of air being forced into Dean's lungs by the machine that had been wheeled behind his head. She also noticed that Sam was no longer on the floor but had been hastily deposited on the bed next to his brother and now had an IV line of his own taped to his hand as he seemed to just be in a peaceful state of sleep and thankfully oblivious to what was going on around him.

"Hey, anybody know what this guy's name is?" One of the nurses standing at Sam's side inquired and Sophia seemed to be the only one that could answer that question.

"His name is Sam. I don't even know his last name but you can go ask the guy that was following us in that old, black car that's parked outside. Sam said he was family so I guess he gets the paperwork by default now," she called over to the other treatment area before turning her attention carefully to the x-rays that were being proudly displayed before her.

"Pictures are up doc," the young man carrying them shouted to her as he flipped on the bright light behind them and she studied them carefully but quickly before making her decision on what to do next.

"Ok, there's a nasty looking sternal fracture with multiple rib fractures to go along with it and a boatload of infection everywhere else. Damn, it's no wonder he can't breathe. I think we're gonna have to surgically stabilize those rib fractures to take some the pressure off his lungs and try to clear some of that shit out. Call upstairs and get a room ready while I go find the conscious next of kin in the reception area and explain what we're going to try to do," she ordered as she stripped her hands of the gloves she'd been wearing and crossed the small space between the half-dead patient she had been working on and the half-out-of-his mind one lying just as deathly still in the bed now before her. She made a cursory exam of Sam's condition and finding him nothing more than exhausted and dehydrated, she left him to the capable team of nurses already tending to his ailments. Making her way towards the exit with a purpose, she never noticed the nosy, blonde woman that had been watching her every move until she walked right into her, her presence there suddenly somewhat of an annoyance.

"Excuse me, you don't belong here. I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave," she curtly told her and for a second she was sure her eyes flashed a dark shade of red. Closing her own eyes and shaking her head ever so slightly, she looked back onto the face staring her down and saw nothing but a steely blue again.

"Sorry, I seem to be lost," she innocently stated and Sophia quickly motioned for the door as she glared right back at her.

"The exit is right here. See the red exit sign right above it? That means exit," she matter-of-factly stated as she opened the door and held it wide for the intruding woman to pass through while her eyes scanned the room for the man she was looking for.

She slipped unnoticed by everyone through the double doors right behind Sophia and out into the busy waiting room, ducking cautiously around people and obstacles when she caught sight of Bobby standing in a corner waving a clipboard as he seemed to be having a rather heated discussion with one of the women from behind the counter she had seen earlier and before he ever knew she had been there, she pushed herself through the exit doors to the relative safety outside as the young, and very rude lady doctor that set out looking for him found him easily. She left willingly, but she would be back soon because she definitely had some unfinished business with Sam.

**End Notes:****Yeah, I know this was a little weird but I had to come up with a good reason for Dean to be dying again after Sam so painstakingly brought him back so, there it is. I'm **

**pretty sure the next one will be the last one, so thanks again for all the great comments everyone has left. **


	21. Chapter 21

_A/N: My apologies for the long delay in updating. Real life had not been kind as of late and just seems to get in the way at the most inopportune times. You know what they say about making lemonade when life throws you lemons? I say, keep in mind that lemonade will rot your teeth faster than a can of Coke…and don't even start me on the tainted tomatoes! Anyway, please enjoy!!_

Chapter 21

If the blindingly bright light boring into his skull wasn't enough to wake him up, the constant, repetitive droning of his own name in his ears over and over again as he tried to sleep most definitely had done the trick; the voice it spoke to him in alternating between softly sweet and gruffly anxious. Forcing the eyelid someone was so rudely holding open that were supposed to be covering the current victim of a vicious penlight assault closed; he realized that the throbbing in his head had nothing to do with the mini laser beam someone was shooting into it. No, that headache had probably been there long before the voices nagging at him had tried dragging him out of his blissful slumber that had left him totally and blessedly unawares, even if it was only temporary.

"Sam," that sweetly innocuous voice spoke again and when Sam thought he recognized it, he opened one eye, then the other, and tried clearing the haze out to look at Sophia's gentle features barely inches from his own. "Good, you're awake. How do you feel?"

She spoke soothingly to him and Sam couldn't help but be astonished at her amazingly calm bedside manner. _'Bedside manner… what am I doing in bed? And why am I wearing a hospital gown?' _ He asked himself, his head still in a fog as his eyes drifted over to Bobby's worried face and noticing for the first time that he was no longer wearing his blood stained clothes. _'Blood … where did all that blood come from?' _Yet another question he couldn't quite figure out at the moment as his head continued beating to the rhythm of its own drum.

"What happened?" He finally decided to question as he brought his heavy hand up to his forehead to rub at it, but wincing when his fingers found not just skin but a rather oversized goose egg with what felt like a couple stitches dead center of it at his hairline and he couldn't hide his growing frown.

"You hit your head pretty hard when you passed out Sam, split it open enough to warrant a stitch or two, but nothing too serious," Sophia told him in that mellow tone she always seemed to be able to speak in.

'_Mellow tone… she didn't have such a mellow tone earlier. No, she was yelling at someone before I … yelling something about crashing and then…Dean, wait a minute, she was yelling something about Dean… no, he can't be… _"Oh god, where's Dean? Where's my brother?" He nearly leapt from the bed when the memories finally bombarded his already pounding skull, the sounds of the flat-lined heart monitor attached to his brother's chest echoing harshly in his head and it took nearly all the strength Bobby had to force him back down again, the sudden back and forth movement making him somewhat dizzy enough to readily comply.

"Relax Sam, he's still alive," the gruff voiced, older hunter told the slightly panicked younger man who started to relax slightly when he felt Bobby's strong hand practically pinning him to the bed underneath him. The words were exactly what he wanted to hear as he let out a relieved sigh, but the faces that went along with them weren't as hopeful and he just decided it would be better to close his eyes again; not only because the room was spinning slightly but because he couldn't stand to see the long looks that stared back at him like a man on death row ready to take his final walk.

"You have a slight concussion from that instrument table you took out with you on your way down to the floor and you were really starting to get dehydrated. When was the last time you ate, drank, or slept Sam?"

"I can't remember. The last few days have all blended together into one really long one," he answered her and if that wasn't the closest he'd ever come to the truth in regards to talking to her, he didn't know what was. "How is he? How is Dean? Can I see him? Please?"

The near begging tone he unleashed his barrage of pleas for his brother to her in with almost broke Sophia's heart when she heard them, all the emotional agony Sam was feeling painfully evident in his words alone and equal only to the physical anguish his brother was going through at the very same time. She dreaded having to tell him what she knew so far, but she also knew she had no choice. She had taken on this burden and she fully planned on seeing it through until the end.

"Sam, your brother's still up in surgery…" she tried to explain, not getting very far on her first attempt.

"What do you mean 'still' up in surgery? How long has he been in surgery? Surgery for what?" He cut 

her off after she had barely finishing one sentence and Bobby tried to remain calm as Sam's anxiety started to rise.

"Calm down and let her explain everything Sam," Bobby half growled when he saw Sam's panic start to show again, his lack of patience rendering him nearly unable to listen. The lack of windows in the room only seemed to fuel his fears even more when he realized he had no concept of time whatsoever anymore.

"How long have I been sleeping? What the hell time is it anyway?" He demanded to know and this time it was Bobby's turn to answer a question.

"Let's just say that if it was summer, the birds would be chirping along with the sunrise and leave it at that. Now, do you wanna get some answers to all your questions from the pretty lady that is very patiently trying to give them to you or do you wanna keep ignoring the only person that can tell you how your brother is like she ain't even there just because you need to hear yourself talk?" Bobby knew what he had said was harsh, but he also knew that sometimes it was the only way to get through to Sam's stubborn mind. All the Winchesters were alike in varying degrees, and Bobby was convinced at times that Sam was by far the worst of the three.

It didn't take Sam long to calculate how much sleep he must have gotten when he heard what Bobby had just told him and counting the hours that must have elapsed between the time they had climbed from the ambulance at nearly five in the afternoon the day before, he slumped back down hard into the bed and closed his eyes again, this time in total defeat and ready to listen. "Twelve hours? I've been out for twelve hours?" He asked, guessing at the time and vaguely remembering when the sun had risen the day they started down the road on this fated trip to make his calculations.

"Damn near twelve," Bobby confirmed what Sam had already seemed to figure out on his own.

"Has Dean been in surgery that long?" He had to ask, his concern growing. Why would Dean need to be in surgery that long in the first place?

"No Sam, he hasn't," Sophia quelled Sam's concerns with just four words. "We couldn't do anything until we got his temperature down from the 106 it spiked to after he, umm …" she paused for a minute, not really sure what words to use. She didn't need try and sugarcoat it though; Sam already knew what she was going to say.

"After he arrested again… I know, I remember that much before I hit my head."

She gave him a warm, caring smile when she saw the sadness and fear held in check behind his eyes and just kept going now that he seemed to be actually listening. "Then you don't need me to remind you just how sick your brother really is, do you?"

She continued with her explanation when Sam just shook his head in response. "It took us nearly five hours to bring his fever down to just under 104 and I really wanted it a little lower then that before we began but I just couldn't wait anymore. He has multiple rib fractures, some of which are broken in more than one place and a pretty nasty fracture of the sternum that was preventing his lungs from properly expanding in his ribcage, which I thought was why he didn't start breathing on his own again after…well, you know. I decided to stabilize the ribs with a few plates and screws to take some of the strain off his lungs in the hopes that he'd start breathing on his own again."

"Let me guess… it didn't work, right?" Sam asked her when he saw her eyes look quickly away from his for the briefest of moments before holding his gaze again, Sam's hunter instincts helping him to read her like a complex novel in the short time he had known her.

"It helped a little. Even though he's still not breathing on his own, at least his lungs are getting as much oxygen in them as they can take," she said in a rather hopeful tone that made him feel a little better. She was an honest doctor and for once, Sam found that refreshing.

"Which probably isn't much considering all that shit floating around in them," Sam commented and once again she was surprised at how quickly he figured things out all on his own.

"His body is producing phlegm almost faster then we can clear it out but we get as much of it as we can and hopefully once the antibiotics start killing off that infection the mucus production will start to taper off a little and his lungs will finally start to heal. Until that happens though, we're going to have to do most of his breathing for him. His lungs are just too weak and too damaged to handle that burden on their own and once they stopped working, they were too tired to start up again," she paused in her thoughts for a long moment and for a second Sam thought she was done explaining everything, but the second he opened his mouth to ask a question, she started back up again. "Since we already had him prepped for surgery, I had an orthopedic surgeon take a good look at that nasty hand wound. The cut was deep enough to sever the flexor tendons in two of his fingers, which is what they're still working on now."

"How much longer is that going to take?" Sam finally asked when her pause this time seemed to indicate she was actually finished as she stared at him with those meaningful green eyes, never once asking a question about how the hand injury occurred in the first place. Sam already knew how much damage Dean had done to that hand before anyone had to tell him though and ignored the relaying of that information, his concern with solely focused on whether or not Dean would live through the night, or rather the day. "I need to see my brother, please."

"It shouldn't be too much longer now. I've been done with him for over an hour and I thought they said they were almost done when I left to come and see how you were doing. Speaking of how you're doing, are you feeling better, Sam?"

"Please stop asking me how I feel. I'll feel better when I can see my brother," he answered her question a little more angrily then he had meant to and instantly regretted it when he saw her face sink just a little. He did like her, after all and she had been like a lifeline to a drowning man when he needed something to keep his head afloat for him earlier. "Sorry. I do feel better, just have a headache."

"Well, I think I've got something here in my pocket for that and there's some water right there next to you," she tore open the packet of pills she had in her hand and passed them over to him as he reached for the water, taking all four of the little, brownish-orange tablets in one swallow followed by a generous mouthful of water right behind. "If you don't feel nauseous or dizzy, I'll take that IV out now too."

He noticed it for the first time since the conversation began, the thin line of tubing that ran down the side of the bed and snaked its way up the length of his arm before its end buried itself just under the flesh of his hand. He didn't care if he felt like vomiting up not only the entire contents of his stomach but his stomach right along with it; as far as she was concerned, he felt just fine and deciding that to be the best answer, he took a page from his older brother's pigheaded, medical avoidance book as he thrust his hand forward at her. "I'm fine, really. Just take it out please."

Glancing in Bobby's direction, the elder man just shrugged his shoulders subtly as if giving her permission to proceed. Peeling back the sticky tape on Sam's hand and removing it altogether, she pressed a folded up 2inch x 2 inch piece of gauze against the vein and slid the offending piece of plastic out before stretching a brown Band-Aid over the top to keep the pressure steady for her. Winding up the line and draping it over the bag to keep it from dripping onto the floor, she took one more good look at Sam's weary face and rested a comforting but firm hand on his forearm when she saw him make an effort to climb from the bed.

"Not so fast Sam. You were dehydrated, exhausted, and probably in a state of shock before you went down and I want you to get something into your stomach before you go anywhere. I want you to rest here just a little while longer while I get you something to eat. The last thing I want or you need is you right back down here in a little while because you passed out again, so sit tight and I'll be back when I have some news on Dean for you," Sophia told the young man more than asked him and Bobby was silently standing right next to her to basically tell Sam that her request wasn't an option, it was a subtle order. She shook her head without saying another word and the next thing both men knew, she was gone.

"You knew all of that already, didn't you?" Sam had to ask when he saw that the older man's facial expressions hadn't changed once during her explanation as if any of it wasn't new news to him.

"Yeah, she already told me how bad he really is," Bobby confessed, albeit not guiltily.

"Is there anything else she didn't tell me?" Sam suspiciously inquired, doubting she would keep anything from him but asking it anyway.

"Nope. I think that pretty much covered all of it," Bobby replied, his tone obviously hiding something as he eyed Sam curiously and sighed thankfully when he realized the slight waver in his voice had gone unnoticed. He quickly decided to change the subject in order to keep Sam's mind occupied. "You wanna talk about what happened back there?"

Sam knew that sooner or later, that question was coming; he just didn't think it would come this quickly. Bobby could be as devious as the Winchesters at times, especially when it came to interrogating and knowing full well that Sam's head would be so clouded with his concern for his brother's well being to even remotely be able to avoid his prying questions, Sam would probably spill like a broken levee. Dropping his head back down onto the pillow behind him, Sam turned his still bloodshot gaze from the older man up to the ceiling and tried to figure out just what to say and realized pretty quickly that he couldn't come up with anything intelligent. Truth be told, he had no idea what had happened back there. He had been so consumed with anger and grief that he just blocked everything else out and honestly couldn't remember much of anything that happened during that short period of time until the glass started shattering around him.

"I don't know Bobby. When Dean died, I just… I mean, I couldn't… I can't…" he stammered, unable to put his feelings into proper words and decided to not even try before directing his anger elsewhere. "Why does he always have to do that Bobby? He did die, and could still die because he always feels the need to protect me, even from me."

"It's because he loves you unconditionally Sam," Bobby stated flatly, just telling Sam exactly like it is.

"Then why does he always do shit that may end up leaving me alone. He never thinks anything through first, he just does what he thinks is right and we got lucky this time, very lucky. I'm not sure we'll be so lucky if there is a next time."

"Sam, that brother of yours loves you as much, if not more, than that daddy of yours loved you both combined and look what he did when one of his boys was in serious trouble. Do you really think Dean's ever gonna stop trying to look after you with his dying breath anytime soon?"

"No," Sam single-wordedly huffed and rolled his eyes right along with it, the one word answer saying it all.

"Then stop obsessing about it and try protecting him from himself and hope for the best. That's about all you can do kid 'cause I'd be willing to bet he can't live without you as much as you can't live without him."

"Yeah, well this time he might not live because of me," Sam sighed out, knowing Bobby was right. No amount of arguing was ever going to change Dean. "Screw this; I'm checking myself out of here. I can't sit here another minute waiting and wondering what's happening." Sam threw the blanket off his legs that had been covering them and made to stand, until he felt the cold draft against his bare skin and thought twice.

"And you complain about Dean," Bobby chuckled, not at the amusement but the irony. Chuckling again when he noticed what Sam still had only half discovered; he pointed in the young man's direction and asked him the real pressing question of the day. "Were you planning on checking out half naked Sam? In case you hadn't noticed…"

"Sorry guys, the kitchen isn't open yet and it seems that McDonald's is the only thing serving at this hour of the day. Since it was right across the street, I guess it'll have to do," Sophia's voice echoed through the room, causing both men to instantly quiet as they looked at her with surprise and Sam quickly drew the blanket back over his lower half. "Hope you like hotcakes and sausage, because that's what you're getting."

She casually dropped the oversized, white bag onto the table next to Sam and drew out one rectangular shaped, Styrofoam container after another, handing one to Sam first with a plastic fork, plastic knife and a napkin, then handed the other to Bobby as well. Sam may not know it, but the older man hadn't left his side in the twelve hours he had been asleep, other than to fill out the obligatory paperwork he had been given and he looked nearly as beaten down as Sam had when he first set foot into the emergency room back in Chester. The dark bags under his eyes indicated that he hadn't slept a wink in the longest time as well and Sophia was pretty sure he would be the next one to drop if she didn't try heading that off.

"You really didn't have to do this," Bobby graciously told her, totally thankful that she did though. "I need a little fuel for my engine, so thanks much."

"Eat up gentlemen. Once you're done, we'll see about finding you some clothes to put on and letting you go Sam. That t-shirt you showed up in has been properly disposed of and the jeans, well… you really can't put those back on either but I'm sure we can scrounge you up something to wear."

"Don't worry, I've already got that covered," Bobby announced, pointing to the large, green duffle bag resting in the corner. "I knew you'd need to change, just didn't know I'd find you like this when I got here."

"Your uncle is a good man Sam," Sophia winked and smiled at them both until they saw her happy appearance turning startled as she jump slightly. Reaching into her pocket and pulling out her pager that had suddenly sprung to life without any notice, she waved it at them and excused herself, quickly leaving the room and the two of them alone again.

"Speaking of clothes, I had to snatch some of your brother's gear from his bag since you left my truck back in Chester with all my stuff in it. Couldn't go wandering around here covered in blood myself and your gangly things don't exactly fit me," Bobby felt the need to tell Sam, who had already ingested half of what was sitting on the table in front of him and was eagerly working on the other half already, not really listening to what he had just said and anxious to get out of the room he currently felt trapped in. "Sam, can you even taste that while you inhale it?"

"You heard her Uncle Bobby. The sooner we eat, the sooner we get the hell out of here. What are you waiting for? Start shoveling."

'I'm waitin' for someone to bring me some Rolaids. I'm getting heartburn just watching you. Slow down 

or you're gonna make yourself sick kid."

Ignoring what the older man had said, Sam nearly jumped off the bed to get to the bag waiting for him in the corner when his foam plate was clean and dug through it with a purpose. Pulling out jeans, a clean t-shirt and socks, he was dressed and searching for his shoes before Bobby had finished, the man seeing exactly what he was looking for and silently pointing him in the right direction. With his feet now strapped into their usual footwear and Bobby's plate now empty, Sam threw the duffel over his shoulder and ventured out into the hall, spotting Sophia on his first sweep of his latest surroundings. She was leaning up against the nurses' station counter listening to someone on the other end of the phone that she had pressed to her ear, occasionally nodding as if the caller could hear her head shaking. Seeing Sam coming in her direction from the corner of her eye, she ended the call before he got into earshot and stood her tiny frame up fully to address him.

"Wow, that was fast," she feigned her surprise as he approached and dropped the receiver back into its cradle.

"Can we just go wait upstairs please?" He asked her in that sad begging tone again.

"That was the surgeon I was just talking to Sam. They've already moved your bother straight from the OR to the ICU. We can go right up as long as you're ready."

"I think I'm ready," Sam told her somewhat sarcastically and she glanced first at him then at Bobby before motioning to the elevators.

"I really wanted to talk to you in your room before I took you to see him, but if you're that anxious to see Dean then I guess I'll have to explain a few things to you on the way up. You need to be fully prepared before you walk in that door Sam."

"Somehow I knew there had to be more to it then what you already told me," Sam commented, shooting Bobby a look of irritation and recognizing the look that came right back as one of guilt that he already knew most of what was still to come.

"I'm sorry Sam. I just wanted to make sure you were up to hearing all the news, that's all."

"Ok, so let's have the rest," he readied himself mentally for what he was about to hear as she began speaking again, the sweet sound of her voice making even the most horrifying of news reports sound benign.

"You already know that his ribs have been stabilized but his lungs still aren't functioning without assistance yet. I decided not to intubate him orally but opted instead for a tracheotomy tube, not only to keep his mouth free for potential speech once he wakes up but also considering the fact that we may be looking at possible long-term ventilation."

"Long-term ventilation? What's that supposed to mean? How long is long-term?" Sam nearly screamed; the small confines of the tiny elevator they had boarded without him even noticing making his voice seem all that much louder.

"His lungs are so weak right now, maybe two weeks, maybe more. I just don't know yet. It's hard to tell considering…" she started, not ready to share what she had planned on saving for last.

"Considering what?" Sam caught on quickly, but she skirted around the question expertly.

"We put in an intravenous line into his neck that threads directly into a large vein in his chest that we've started some pretty heavy doses of antibiotics through along with IV feeding and pain medication. I'd really rather avoid placing a feeding tube into his stomach, so for now it'll have to do. Eventually we'll need to give him some light sedation so he doesn't fight the ventilator, but for now that isn't really going to be an issue."

"Eventually you'll have to sedate him? Why eventually? Why not now?" Sam asked through heavy breaths as he wiped his sweaty palms on the legs of his jeans. Just when he thought he had heard the worst, he now knew there was much more to come.

"I don't exactly know how to tell you this Sam, but the serious lack of brain activity Dean is displaying is rather baffling. We have run every test imaginable and can find no sign of brains damage, but he has almost no cognitive brain function at the moment. All his autonomic functions seem fully intact, but the rest are in limbo somewhere. There's an occasional spike in the brainwaves every now and then but that's about it. We'll need to sedate him once his brain starts to catch back up with his body so he doesn't fight the ventilator, but for now it would just be detrimental."

"So your pretty much saying he's brain dead, is that it?" Sam somewhat growled just at the same instant that the elevator doors opened, mercifully ending the longest elevator ride of Sam's entire life as all three stepped out and started slowly walking down the hall.

"No Sam, that's not what I'm telling you at all. I'm saying that we have no explanation for that aspect of 

his condition right now. The few reactions we've had to stimuli are encouraging, but you need to be prepared for the fact that it may be a long road to a complete recovery, that's all. I don't want to promise you any miracles."

"There's no such thing as miracles," Sam dejectedly stated as simply as he possibly could and turned away from her and Bobby to face the doorway of the room Sophia had walked them both up to and Sam had to pause and draw in a deep breath before walking in as Bobby lagged behind to give Sam some much needed time alone at his big brother's side.

The sounds were the first thing to assault his senses. The slow, monotonous beeping indicating there was still some life, albeit forced life, inside the broken and battered body lying helplessly in the bed was a joy to hear, but the rest of the ominous noises he could have gone the rest of his life without. Each hiss that he heard coinciding with the rising of Dean's multicolored chest that had been left exposed as the silence that followed directly after it caused it to fall flat and lifeless again only reminded him that his brother, his hero, couldn't even do the simplest of things as breathe. Purples, reds and blacks were scattered in splotches everywhere across his body, the harsh colors penetrating the orange coating that had been wiped all over his chest and abdomen underneath and around the bright white layers of gauze taped to both of his sides covering the incisions that had been made to piece the ribs he himself had crushed back together.

As his eyes drifted up from Dean's torso to survey his neck, he shivered when he saw the thick, plastic tubes protruding from his throat in more than one place, the one dead center just below his Adam's apple snaking its way around his head and ending at the machine making the sounds he hated to hear making him somewhat sick to his stomach. The other set of lines seemed a little more innocent to Sam's eyes; one, thick line branching into three that all carried one kind of fluid into his bloodstream. Dropping his gaze from Dean's neck to his hands, Sam reached for the one that wasn't wrapped in mounds of white and encased in a black brace that held the two end finger's tightly outstretched and immobilized to prevent them from moving or curling. Taking Dean's free, unscathed hand into his own and basking in its warmth, he held it against his chest and finally let his eyes drift to his brother's face, his own mind barely able to look him in the closed eye.

With his face remarkably free of anything restricting other then the few, small electrodes that were barely visible stuck to his head, each one spread out intermittently and spanning the gap between his left and right temples, his face had gone peacefully serene. Too serene to Sam's liking, considering all the mayhem that had ensued the day before. Dean's eyes were pinched shut tight, the dark circles arcing deeply below them being one of the few indications there was that anything wrong. At worst, he looked like he usually did after a night of too much beer, women, and pool; not necessarily in that order either. The rosy color of his cheeks stood out in stark contrast to the ghostly white of the rest of his face and Sam could tell by the heat coming from the hand clutched to his chest that the bright red was fever-induced but that didn't stop him from brushing the backs of his fingers across his brother's cheek anyway, somehow wanting to feel that heat as well.

It was Dean's lips that brought Sam's emotions crashing down around him, the emotions that he had been miraculously keeping in check since Sophia had started explaining his brother's condition to him earlier. His lips were no longer caked in his own blood and held a dark, pinkish color to them; almost a healthy color, Sam thought. With the blood spattered across them cleaned away, he could see how dry and cracked they were, the slight part in them that was almost always there when Dean slept heavily making Sam's mind tell himself that Dean was doing just that and nothing more than that as he breathed through his mouth like he always did, half expecting the light snore that usually followed to start any second. Vivid imaginations didn't last long though when the obnoxious sounds of the ventilator pumping oxygen into Dean's lungs and the tiny electrodes attached to his head that indicated nothing was going inside it forced him to realize that maybe… just maybe… there was nothing left of Dean but an empty shell anymore. He had brought his body back to life, but had he brought him back from death entirely whole? With his mind reeling and his heart aching, he just let the tears that had started accumulating in his eyes the second he walked into room stream down his face as he leaned over Dean and rested his head against his brother's warm shoulder, his tears drying almost as quickly as they landed on the hot flesh pressed Sam pressed his cheek against like he did when he was scared as a child and for the first time in a very long time, he just let himself cry.

Bobby and Sophia had made their way into the room when the heart wrenching sobs had reduced themselves to nothing more than hard sniffles and hitched breathes, the red, puffy eyes that stared at Bobby's as he came into the room being the catalyst to the older hunter's own bloodshot eyes start to 

mist. The man that had taken them in and protected them, the man that had been their emotional rock since their father had left them couldn't hide his own pain anymore and as he approached Sam and rested a hand on his shoulder, Sam rose from his chair and nearly crushed Bobby in a much needed embrace, the tears that had seemed to stop coming from Sam's eyes starting to stream once again as Bobby's joined them and the two cried their grief out together.

Not one of the three in the room had noticed the blonde haired woman pacing the hall periodically, glancing in every now and again and deciding now was the wrong time to pay them a visit and figured that there would be no real harm in waiting just a little while longer. It would probably be better that way anyway, because she was going to need Sam in somewhat of a right mind to tell him what it was she wanted and what she had to give him back in return. That's what demons do after all, make deals and she knew that she had one whopper of a deal for Sam that there was no way he could refuse… because she knew she had the only thing on the face of the planet that Sam wanted right now firmly grasped in the palm of her hand, ready to crush it should Sam say no.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

"Sam, you better hope he's as out of it as she says he is or we ain't never gonna hear the end of this little display of affection we got going here," Bobby snorted out between Sam's hitched breaths now that the weary young man seemed to have finally run out of steam, his head resting heavily on the shorter man's shoulder as his outburst seemed to gradually wind itself down.

"I don't care. Let him rib me for the rest of my life that I'm a crybaby wuss. At least he'll be alive to do it," Sam angrily blurted out as he pulled away from the older man and turned his attention quickly back to his lifeless brother now that he was as emotionally spent as he was physically. Dropping himself back into the semi-cushioned, vinyl chair strategically positioned next to the bed, he rested his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands, trying to rid his eyes of any evidence that he had just had the mother of all chick-flick moments.

"I really hate to interrupt, but if you don't mind me saying so Mr. Singer, you really should try and get some rest. I hear from the nurses that you've been up just about all night with Sam and you really do look exhausted," she waited until it seemed the emotional coast was clear before bringing up the subject and Bobby just stared at her blankly as she addressed him. Sam's attention had been grabbed with the comment as well and his eyebrows went up in surprise when he heard what she had just said. "If you'd like, I can bend the rules just a tad for one day and have them bring in another chair in here for you, at least for a little while. I can't promise you'll both be able to stay all night tonight, but I'll see what I can do."

"It's Bobby, and that'd be great, thanks," he readily replied as Sam remained silent, his eyes giving Bobby the once over as Sophia scanned the older man as well. She was sure he would drop like Sam had just about any second now if he didn't sit soon first and she'd rather that not happen if she could prevent it and if Sam could have read her mind, he probably would have agreed.

"I'll be right back," she told them as she quickly ducked out the door and Sam couldn't help but start in on the veteran hunter now that Dean wasn't available to hound about his health.

"Have you really been up all night? Jeez man, when was the last time you slept?" The thought that Bobby had probably been up nearly two days now ran through Sam's head as he tried calculating the time differential between his arrival at that accursed house and the moment they found themselves in right now, not really knowing how long he had been on the road before he made his way into Montana to begin with.

"I think I may have dozed off for a minute or two here and there in one of those hard, plastic chairs we all love so much while you were out cold. Sleep's pretty overrated anyway kid. I'm sure I'll get plenty of it when these old bones are dead, so why waste time doing it now?"

"That's not funny," Sam somberly stated and Bobby instantly knew he had misspoken. That really was the last thing Sam had needed to hear. "I'm fine Sam, really."

"That's what Dean said two days ago and look at him now. He may as well be dead if there's nothing going on in his head. God Bobby, what have I done to him?" As hard as Sam tried to hide his feelings, they just seemed to crawl their way out onto his sleeve anyway to make themselves quite obviously known to anyone that cared to look.

"Come on Sam, don't talk like that. She didn't say his condition was hopeless," the older man tried to remain positive because if Sam wasn't, someone sure had to.

"She didn't say there was much hope to hold out for either. You heard her, no cognitive brain function. That's a nice way of saying the lights are on but nobody's home and they aren't coming back. That whole line of crap about it being a long road to a complete recovery was just that, a line of crap, and we both know it."

"Sam, don't you think you're overreacting just a little? It hasn't even been a full day since you …" Sam wasted no time cutting him off, not wanting to hear the actual reminder he was sure was about to come out of how extreme his brother's condition had been. It didn't get much more extreme than dead after all.

"No I don't think I'm overreacting. Look at him Bobby. That machine's the only thing keeping him alive," Sam's voice sounded utterly devastated to Bobby's ears and he was sure that no matter what he said, it wouldn't make him feel even the slightest bit better. "First Jess, then dad, and now Dean. How am I supposed to keep doing this without him? He was all I had left."

"You won't have to do it alone Sam because he's gonna be just fine. He's Dean Winchester, remember?" Bobby continued with that positive tone, needing Sam to believe it as much as he did.

"I'm not sure if that's enough this time Bobby," Sam stated his reply so coldly it nearly made the normally 

unshakable man shiver at how emotionless he had suddenly become.

"Well, it's not the most comfortable thing in the world, but you're in no condition to be driving anywhere right now so it'll have to do," Sophia's voice cut right through the middle of their conversation and abruptly ended it as her eyes fell on the elder man in room, which Bobby wasn't the least bit upset about. Both men watched in silence as the petite doctor and her male counterpart dragged the twin to Sam's seat through the open doorway and placed it well out of the way in a far corner, the small piece of furniture complete with a thin, beige colored blanket already bunched up and ready to do its duty. She sensed the tension in the air immediately as the two men gave each other varying looks, both of which told her she had interrupted something of importance, but judging by the older man's gaze, he was grateful she had. "Is everything alright in here?"

"Everything's just fine," Bobby spoke before Sam could get a word out of his open and ready mouth, knowing the young man was a powder keg about ready to explode and all it would take is for someone to light the fuse with a wrong word match.

"Well, I'm going to leave you in the very capable hands of Matt here and I'll be back to check up on you guys later," she directed their attention to what they could both only assume was a nurse at the announcing of the young man's name that had helped carry in the additional seating into the room with her, Bobby being the only one to find some sort of amusement in the fact that Dean's nurse would not be one of the female variety. "… and please Mr. Singer…err, Bobby, get some sleep. Doctor's orders."

"Yes ma'am," Bobby readily complied with the command as he gave her a slight salute and dropped himself hard into the seat below him, the gesture of obedience eliciting the wide grin that had spread itself across her clearly blushing face.

"Sam, we'll continue this later. Right now, I'm gettin' some shut-eye. You go easy on that fella there, 'cuz I know how you can get," Bobby aimed a thumb in Matt's direction as he stretched out as best he could in the semi-reclined chair, threw the blanket over his tired mass of skin and bones, and closed his eyes. Even he hadn't realized how tired he was and it didn't take long for his mind to completely shut down, taking his body along for the ride.

Turning his attention from Bobby to Matt, who was now twisting his brother's body lower body every which way, Sam took his seat next to the bed and decided to watch him like a hawk when an odd feeling came over him, an odd feeling that he couldn't really explain and he really just wanted to throw some holy water at the relatively large man that could snap Dean's neck like a pretzel in all of two seconds if he really wanted to just to be sure he was one of the good guys.

"What are you doing?" He finally decided to ask in a tone that was obviously forced to be casual when Matt started lifting Dean's head and shoulders up off the mattress in an attempt to reposition his upper body now that he had taken care of the lower half.

"Doc wants him moved around every couple hours to keep him comfortable and…" the nurse tried to explain his actions and Sam somehow suddenly wished he hadn't asked.

"What for? It's not like he'd notice it," he rudely interrupted and Matt knew that Sam was going to be one of 'those' family members that had already moved on to the anger stage. The older man, he thought to himself, was still in denial, but this one was pissed.

"You'd be surprised what he'd notice," he told Sam without hesitation and Sam just huffed and slammed his back against the chair to sulk like the child he was behaving as. Matt said nothing as he continued his assessment of his patient's condition and quietly left the room, somehow knowing that Sam was probably going to be somewhat of a challenge to deal with as the days went by.

With nothing to focus on other then the sounds in the room, which made his skin crawl just to listen to them, Sam decided to take a page out of Bobby's book and rested his head against the mattress next to him, his eyes closing without even being directed to and he tried as hard as he could to just fall asleep. He was tired, frustrated, angry, and terrified all at the same time and wanted nothing more than to just ignore what was going on, hoping that if he just went to sleep he would somehow wake up from this nightmare back in their motel room in wherever that little snow covered town was like nothing had ever happened with Dean still packing nothing more than a simple cold and him actually noticing it long before it had been too late. The hypnotic hissing sounds did finally lull him into a light state of slumber for a little while, until the sound of footsteps coming back in startled him and when Sam looked up and saw Matt standing next to the bed again, he felt the briefest moment of panic well up inside when he started pulling out the pillows from under his brother's head.

"What the hell are you doing to my brother now?" He demanded; his brain not quite in tune with the rest of his body just yet as he tried to stand too quickly, prepared to stop whatever it may be the man he 

wasn't sure if he trusted yet might be doing to Dean's defenseless body but falling back down into his seat when the room started to slightly tilt from left to right at his sudden change in altitude. Matt waited for the color to return to Sam's face before he started yet another explanation, pretty sure Sam was going to cut that one off before he could finish it as well.

"I need to lay him flat for a little while to drain some of the fluid in his chest into his throat, and then I'll need to clear it out. You may want to step out into the hall while I do that, it's something you probably don't want to see or hear," he kept the answer as short and as close to the point as possible, hoping Sam would take the hint.

"I think I'll just wait here while you do that, if you don't mind," was Sam's obstinate response. He had no intentions of leaving his brother alone with anyone anytime soon.

"Suit yourself," Matt replied, somewhat irritated that he'd have an audience.

He fell back into that uncomfortable silence Sam seemed to appreciate so much as he repositioned the bed so that Dean was not only flat but inverted ever so slightly and counted the minutes away on his watch while scribbling notes down on the paper hidden behind the metal lid of the clipboard in his hands. Ten long ones passed by that seemed like they had taken ten years as Sam stood across the bed directly on the other side and stared nearly face to face at the young man the entire time like a rabid watchdog waiting for him to make one overly aggressive move so he could chew his face off and spit it out onto the floor, the disturbing sounds coming from his brother's chest starting to make themselves heard the longer he watched and listened. That fluid-filled, gurgling sound had returned with each puff of air that went in and the longer Dean laid there head down, the more pronounced it got until Sam was sure he was going to start choking on whatever it was making the infernal noise. Sam was about to open his mouth to break the silence and demand to know why he was just standing there doing nothing when Matt turned from him and started washing his hands, so instead of speaking, Sam decided to continue his surveillance in silence.

Shaking the excess water off each hand and drying them as best as he could, he tore open a small, plastic container and donned the pair of gloves inside, then extracted a clear, long piece of flexible tubing that came along with the gloves. Pulling the machine hiding causally behind him forward that Sam hadn't noticed before, Matt attached the end of the tube he held in his hand firmly to it and flipped the on switch. He quickly forced what Sam thought to be an overly excessive amount of oxygen into Dean's lungs before quickly detaching the ventilator tubing with his free hand, the action quickly bringing a rather panicked response from the man scrutinizing his every move.

"What the fu…" was all Sam could get out before Matt cut him off this time, having neither the time nor the patience to deal with the pitbull standing across from him and ready to breathe fire.

"You hear that shit in there? I need to get it out so he gets the air he needs," Matt forcefully told Sam as he started guiding the tubing he still held in his hand into the now clear opening in Dean's throat quickly but carefully, stopping only when he couldn't advance it anymore and drawing it out just a little before depressing the control in his other hand to start the wet, sucking sounds that seemed to make Sam's eyes go wide. He could see the tubing fill with dark red fluid as Matt twisted and turned the plastic hose as he withdrew it and for a moment, Sam was frozen in place.

"Is that supposed to be that color," he asked, his aggressive tone gone and replaced with a horrified one instead.

"No, it's not," was all Matt had to say as Sam clamped his hand over his mouth and nearly sprinted out the door as Bobby continued to blissfully snore, not the least bit interested in anything else the man he left behind may be doing inside and now relatively confident he could trust whatever the nurses decided to do to his brother from here on out. He paced the hall nervously as his nausea slowly passed until Matt finally emerged from the room and approached him cautiously. Resting a hand on Sam's slumped shoulder, he looked him directly in the eye in a sort of sadly victorious manner and motioned for him to go back inside. "Next time, you should probably wait outside, huh?"

"Yeah, good idea," Sam confirmed before re-entering the room alone and took his spot back in his chair, his brother reconnected to his lifeline and back in the original, semi-upright position he had been in with pillows stuffed under his shoulders and knees like nothing had ever happened.

He would sit in silence and stare at the walls with a totally blank mind for hours on end just to keep himself somewhat close to sanity, occasionally resting a hand on Dean's shoulder or wiping the sweat from his forehead but never really being able to bring himself to look at him in detail anymore. Sam also never said another word and would readily leave the room as every four hours like clockwork Matt would come back and repeat the horrid process of vacuuming what looked like bloody lung matter out of Dean's 

defunct chest until he was replaced sometime late that evening by the much more female yet equally attractive and quite possibly more masculine Debbie, who took over the duties when Matt had ended his shift for the night. He was more than grateful to leave not only his patient but his patient's brother in the care of someone else until tomorrow morning, needing a long break from the younger brother's up and down emotional rollercoaster. Bobby seemed to find his way back to the real world after a nearly twelve hour power nap and by late that night, Sophia had found her way back as well.

"Well, his fever's down a little. That's a start," Sophia stated rather cheerily as she examined the notes first, then moved on to the body in the bed, her cheer not lasting as long as she had hoped it would while she poked, prodded, and listened.

"But…?" Sam stated right after her smile faded as he braced himself for the first of what he knew would be many shoes to drop.

"But there's still a lot of bloody fluid coming from his lungs," she answered as mundanely as possible; trying to make that fact sound like it was commonplace, finishing her statement with that cheery tone that had somehow returned. "I'm sure that once the cultures come back and we start him on the specific antibiotics, he'll improve in no time."

"You really are an optimist, aren't you," Sam felt the need to point out, quite sure that that cheery tone was anything but a fake one. He couldn't ever remember meeting someone with such a positive attitude before and doubted he ever would again.

"Of course I am. I never met a germ I couldn't kill," she smiled wide at Sam and he couldn't help but smile right back when he caught the slight twinkle in her eye before she turned her attention to Bobby, who had finally dragged himself up and was standing next to the tall young man that amazingly had a slight smile on his face. "You're looking much better this evening, Mr. Singer."

"Feel a whole hell of a lot better too," he smiled at her as well and he chuckled to himself when he wondered if her grin was contagious.

"I'm very happy to hear that, because now would be the time for you two to maybe take a break and get something to eat while we brush his teeth, wash his hair, change his tubes and bandages, things like that," she tossed Sam a little wink at that remark, already well aware of the incident earlier in the day. "Nothing too exciting that you really can't be present for, nor would probably want to be either. So, take that break for about an hour and relax and when you come back, he'll be a new man."

Bobby turned to Sam as Sam turned to Bobby and they both just stared at one another, neither one wanting to leave but both knowing they really didn't have much of a choice. Bobby took the lead though because if he didn't, Sam would stand there all day to argue his presence. Sophia was undeniably correct that Sam needed a break and by god Bobby was going to make sure he took one whether he liked it or not. Grabbing Sam by the sleeve, the smaller man pulled him towards the door gently as not to anger him and the taller of the two surprisingly just let him.

"Let's go Sam. I'm starving and I bet you are too. Let's leave these nice people alone for a little while to do what they need to do," he semi-dragged the non-resistant young man through the door and out into the hall as the hustle and bustle started behind them the instant they were gone and after Mark's demonstration, Sam really didn't want to know what was going on behind that now closed door.

It was late and the cafeteria had long since stopped serving anything, leaving the only place for any kind of sustenance directly across the street at the good old Golden Arches. Not exactly gourmet dining, but it would do. As long as it got Sam out of the building and a bit of fresh air, it really didn't matter. It drove the older man crazy as Sam sat in the booth directly across from him picking at the salad he had reluctantly ordered, not finding much of an appetite in himself at the moment. He just picked at his plate and glanced at his watch repeatedly until an hour was up, only forcing the rest of the leafy, green pile that remained into his mouth when Bobby told him they weren't leaving until he cleaned his plate. Disposing of his and Bobby's trash, he silently marched back out to the car and flopped into his usual spot in the passenger seat of Dean's car, having no desire to feel the wheel in his hands.

Jumping out of the vehicle before it was even in park, Sam left Bobby behind and jogged quickly back inside, not bothering to wait for an elevator as he decided on taking the stairs up the four flights he needed to go. Throwing the door to the stairwell open wide, he frowned deeply when he saw Bobby leaning against the wall directly next to it with his arms crossed over his chest and tapping his foot lightly on the floor.

"Don't you know that haste makes waste kid?" He snickered as Sam glared at him; more annoyed than anything else and wondered how it seemed to be that Bobby was always right.

Responding to the comment with only an eye roll, they both walked quietly together down the hall that 

interestingly seemed devoid of any staff members and back to the room, the room that was oddly dark inside; save for the little overhead light illuminating only Dean's face. The ever present, bright red coloring of his cheeks gave Sam a warm feeling, until he walked through the doorway. The oddly warm feeling was suddenly gone, replaced by a cold, almost painful chill that ran up his spine and he knew that they were not alone.

"Nice to see you again Sam," a woman's soft voice wafted gently through the air, it's tone calm and serene but the feeling it gave the young hunter indicating it was anything but as that eerie chill that had seemed to work its way out of him raced up his back again and settled in his head somewhat as she turned on the room lights with just the snap of her fingers.

Both men's mouths fell open wide when their eyes quickly adjusted to the rather dim light and when she came into full view, neither one found they could move another step inside, even though Sam wanted nothing more than to drag her by her full head of silky, blonde hair out into the hall to exorcise her from that body she was inhabiting as she sat on Dean's bed next to him with his hand firmly clasped in her own. Deep blue eyes flashed to a dark, crimson red as she returned Sam's menacing glare with one of her own, hers holding infinitely more power than his did for the time being.

"Get your filthy hands off my brother," Sam growled as he tapped into some hidden strength reserves deep inside to begin an advance on her, his steps short and being few before she raised her free hand to stop him dead once again.

"Sam, I'm hurt. Had it not been for these filthy hands, would your brother not be traipsing the globe with Iliana on his arm wrecking havoc in the hearts and souls of both man and beast alike as we speak? Give a little credit where it's due, please," she indignantly muttered through gritted teeth, the display totally for show as a slight smirk followed right behind.

"What do you want, a medal?" Bobby angrily spoke this time, addressing her from his frozen position just inside the door. "…'fraid we're fresh out sister."

"Hmm, do I want a medal?" She asked the question rather facetiously as she rested her chin in her free hand and tapped her own cheek with her forefinger as if deep in thought before answering. "I guess, in a way, you could say that I do, but we'll get to that. First things first, I'd like to congratulate you two on a job very well done. That was a great two for one special back there, sending both Belial and his bitch back to hell together. I was quite impressed. Dean even had a little hand in it, what with him jerking that dagger out of his poor, broken body so painfully so his little brother and wise mentor didn't have to choose who would bleed to death. Ooh, I could almost hear that scream that came out of him when he did it. It warmed my heart just a little, considering…"

"Considering? Considering what? That it was probably what ended up killing him?" Sam's anger was clear in his voice now, rising with each word he spoke.

"Gee Sam, he doesn't look very dead to me," she teased, still holding his hand almost lovingly in her own as she raised it up and brushed his limp fingers against her cheek. "Nope, feels too warm to be dead."

"You bitch! Who are you anyway?" Sam seethed with near fury as she sat there stroking his brother's lifeless hand as if she loved him, the mere thought of her touching him making him want to vomit.

"Why, my name is Irina Moore of course; mother of Iliana, Ilsa, and Isabel Moore. Can't you see the family resemblance or are you blind?"

"The only resemblance I see is you and that other bitch demon's red eyes," Sam continued to goad her, rather unsuccessfully. Nothing he seemed to say got anywhere even remotely underneath her skin. She, on the other hand, achieved Sam's desired effect in just a few short phrases and knew before she started that she had already won, it was just a matter of time.

"My my Sam, such language. Do you kiss your mother with that filthy mouth? Oh, wait a minute… no you don't. I guess my husband took care of that a long time ago."

Those words hit Sam like a kick to the stomach, the realization of exactly who or what this woman was that had indeed rescued them from the clutches of the demon triplets making Sam want to drop hard to his knees, but her hold on him wouldn't let him. "Yellow Eyes is your…"

"Does it really matter who I am Sam?" She abruptly interrupted his words and thoughts, already tired of the game she found herself playing. "The only thing that should really matter to you right now is what I have to offer. Of course, it is against my better judgment to even pose this deal to you after all the pain your martyr of a brother has inflicted on my children, but it is ultimately for the greater good and Dean will get his in the end anyway."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" It was Bobby's turn to finally ask a question, which went 

rudely ignored. She wasn't interested in talking to Bobby anyway since he had nothing to offer her.

"Never mind. I'm not going to wait all day for you to decide Sam. What's it going to be? You have something I want and I have something you want… correction, I have something you so desperately need. Care to make an even trade?"

"Don't listen to her Sam…" Bobby started to say before she silenced him with the wave of her hands.

"Shut up old man, this is between the Winchester boy and I. Clock's ticking Sammy, what do you say?"

"What could you possibly have that I could ever want?"

"Good question. Let me ask you something. Do you honestly think Dean's… mmm, shall we call it his delicate neurological condition, is entirely medical?"

Sam wasn't sure how many more mental blows to the gut he could take, each one she made hitting him harder and harder until he found himself nearly unable to breathe. "You're lying, that's what you demons do, you lie."

"Am I?" She asked him sarcastically as she held his gaze to hers and gently rested the palm of her hand not clutched in Dean's against his hot, sweaty forehead, the moment of contact starting a myriad of crazy peaks and spikes racing across the previously flat lined machine next to his head. The longer she held her hand there, the more active the monitor became until Sam actually thought he saw his brother's eyes start to flutter open, only to fall totally still as she pulled her hand quickly away, the broken connection between the two instantly dropping all lines flat again. "Still think I'm lying?"

"What do you want?" Sam nearly begged the question, knowing he would give anything he had to bring the rest of his brother back from the dead.

"The Colt…"

"We don't have it and we don't know where it is either," he interrupted, clearly losing the small shred of hope he may have still had in his heart that Dean would ever be whole again.

"I know you don't have it anymore, but your brother has something just as important Sam, and I want it," she went from mildly amused to deadly serious in the blink of an eye as she finally got down to business.

"What? What does Dean have that you are so desperately trying to talk me into giving you?"

"The bullet. Dean has the last bullet, and I want it. You give me the bullet, I'll give you Dean. What do you say Sam? Do we have a deal?"


	23. Chapter 23

Author's Notes: Well, this isn't exactly how I planned this to go, but I decided to follow my brain instead of my outline, so... here it is. Weird, I know but I just can't seem to finish this one quite yet.

Chapter 23

"What did you just say?" Sam's mouth asked all on its own, his brain not really comprehending what he thought it had just heard.

"Why do you insist on making me repeat myself when you know full well you heard me right the first time? All things considered, it is rightfully ours to begin with," her patience was running rather thin and it resonated in her voice when she spoke, yet Sam's facial expressions never changed from the shocked stare that seemed to be the only reaction he could produce.

"What's rightfully yours? What the hell are you talking about?"

"Let me refresh your memory. Samuel Colt made a gun. For that gun he made thirteen bullets. You idiotic hunters have wasted twelve between the lot of you, leaving one. I want that one remaining bullet and Dean has it. You give it to me and I'll let him live, it's as simple as that. Now, I'm pretty sure you get the gist, since I didn't stutter when I spoke and I tried to use little words so you'd be able to understand. You're time's running out quickly Sam, what's it going to be? I may be relatively eternal, but I don't have all day to wait for you to make up your mind."

"Wait a minute. If Dean has the bullet, where's the Colt?" Sam begged the question, the confusion he seemed buried in blatantly obvious on his face and in his voice.

"You really don't know, do you?" She eyed him cautiously, almost entirely convinced that his lack of knowledge was genuine. "You mean Dean didn't tell you?"

"Didn't tell me what?" Sam's confusion seemed to be morphing into something far worse as she stared at him knowingly, her eyes dancing with a silent laugh that the youngest Winchester had been kept in the dark yet again because of his older brother's fierce loyalty to their dead father.

"He didn't tell you everything your dear old dad told him before he took the soul train down south, did he? Oh, that Dean… he's a sly one, isn't he?" She couldn't contain the slight chuckle that did escape her lips at her realization and she had to ponder for the moment just how much of what she knew she wanted to share with Sam and Bobby. Opting for the 'need to know basis' rule, she kept her answers to Sam's questions simple. "Let's just say that the Colt and the bullet were part of an 'agreement' between certain entities that shall remain nameless, albeit we all know who they were, don't we?"

"You're telling me my Dad traded that damn gun and his soul for Dean's life, aren't you?"

"Since neither of us was privy to that actual conversation, I believe that would be hearsay, wouldn't it? What I do know for a fact though is that, in entity number two's overzealousness at his recent 'acquisition', he failed to confirm that entity number one fully lived up to his end of the bargain. He did let that little 'oversight' on entity number one's part slide for the time being, and solely for your sake Sam, but now that certain events are about to unfold in the very near future, it would appear that procurement of said item is now a necessity."

"I don't believe this… I don't believe any of this," Sam stated, rather incredulously when her words all started making sense in his head but he just seemed unwilling to accept what he knew in his heart to be the truth.

"Alright Sam, let me put it to you simply. Your father made a deal and if you really want to get technical, pretty much welched on it when he slipped Dean that bullet and handed over an empty gun. Now, I know 

that the deal wasn't mine, but you can just consider me a sort of 'repo man' if you will. In all honesty, I don't even really need to bargain with you for your brother's life considering that bullet is rightfully ours but…."

"But what?" Sam hated to ask, but he just couldn't help himself. There always seemed to be a 'but' in everything.

"Dean seems to be the only one that knows exactly where it is. That mind of his is quite an interesting place and as hard as we try, we just can't seem to get a straight answer out of it. So, you being the person that seems to know him best would be the logical choice to figure out where he's hidden it therefore assisting you to finish paying off your father's debt."

"And if I can't find it? Dean's not as easy to figure out as you think he is, even for me," Sam woefully admitted that maybe he didn't know his brother as well as he thought he did, especially when it came to their father.

"Then your father's contract is null and void which means that Dean…" she smiled that wicked, twisted smile at him that made his stomach turn as she made her final statements to him. "Dean lays there and rots in the coma he started in until he just eventually…"

Again she rested a soft hand against Dean's battered body, not across his forehead but across his chest. The slightest contact started a rapid wailing from the heart monitor next to them both and as she turned and glared at Sam one last time, she pressed down hard against the defenseless man's chest, causing the machine to flatline entirely with no further warning. Sam couldn't move and at the realization of what that dreaded sound meant, for the moment it seemed he couldn't breathe either as he watched the ruthless demon-woman sitting so casually on the bed next to his dying brother start to finish him off.

"Stop it, please… I'll find it, I'll find that damn bullet for you, just leave him alone," Sam pleaded with her, but she didn't stop; she didn't raise her hand, not yet.

"Do you promise, do you promise you'll find it and give it to me Sam?" She mockingly begged with a sneer spread across her face.

"Yes, I promise you I'll find it and give it to you. Now please, just stop before you kill him," he pleaded as his eyes fixed themselves his brother's lifeless face.

With the words she wanted to hear falling so exquisitely on her ears, she drew her hand slowly away and rose from the bed as Dean's heart started to beat once again, the heavy footfalls starting down the hall accompanied by loud voices indicating it was time for her to make her timely escape. She quickly raced towards the door in a near hover, waving her hands to release both men from their invisible restraints as she crossed though the threshold and quickly out of sight only seconds before the room was turned from the nearly lifeless tomb it had been into a dizzying whirlwind of activity. Sophia had been the first one through the door and with others hot on her heels, she immediately took a position in front of Sam as her team continued their duties behind her back.

"What happened, Sam?" She asked him urgently but gently as she rested a warm hand on his cold forearm and she guided him to the nearest seat behind him before he fell down.

"I don't know, everything just started going haywire one second and then everything was fine again the next," he lied, knowing he couldn't come up with one explanation that would be even remotely plausible. He sure as hell couldn't tell her the truth; that much he knew.

"Everything looks stable here Dr. Richards," someone called out from across the room and Sam's head and shoulders nearly slumped into his lap when he heard it, relief spread not only across his face but through his entire body as he slowly started to relax.

"I want all that equipment changed out within the hour. That's a little more excitement than anyone around here really needs," Sophia called back almost instantly, the latter part of her comment directed more so at Sam and Bobby than anyone else as she looked at them rather apologetically. "You two ok?"

"Yeah, I think we are now," Bobby pulled up the other chair next to Sam and flopped down into it before he finally spoke, now that the unseen gag that had been placed over his mouth had been removed when their latest nemesis' made her quick exodus. "Are you sure he's ok?"

"All things considered, I'd have to say he's doing just fine. Don't you two worry, I'm pretty sure that after that incident, I can make a pretty strong case for letting you both stay, at least for tonight," Sophia smiled at Sam first, then Bobby as she rose to her feet and patted Sam on the shoulder before turning to leave. "I'll be back in the morning. Try and get some rest, both of you."

Sophia was the first one back out through the door with every warm body that had entered after her following her lead; making the room go eerily quiet, save for the mechanical wonders still fighting to keep Dean alive in the corner. Staring at the wall across the room as his mind wandered, Sam nearly jumped out of the chair when his phone started vibrating in his pocket, not the indication of a call but a text message coming in instead. Drawing the glowing screen up to his face, he read the words and whether it be from anger, fear, or frustration, he launched the cell at the wall he had been staring at and let a tear roll down his cheek when he watched it shatter into a dozen or more pieces.

"What the hell you'd do that for? Didn't win the Publisher's Clearinghouse Sweepstakes," Bobby asked as Sam continued to seethe in the chair next to him, unable to reign in exactly what he was feeling and not really sure how to verbalize anything at the moment without exploding.

When his breathing finally started to slow to an almost normal pace and his eyes no longer held an almost feral glare, Bobby posed the question again without the witty tail end. "Sam, what did I just miss?"

"A text message, from that hell whore. She sent me a two word text, even with the damn battery dead. 'Clock's ticking'. Jesus Christ Bobby, what are we gonna do?"

"We're gonna find that bullet, that's what we're gonna do," the older man stated, very plain as day.

"Yeah… and where do you suggest we start looking?" The younger hunter queried, unable to corral his wayward thoughts.

"Isn't that obvious? If you were Dean, where would you hide it? Where's the only place he would consider safe?"

Sam huffed and rolled his eyes, trying to put himself inside his brother's head. "Knowing Dean, it's somewhere in the car."

"Then that's where we'll start looking," the seasoned hunter tried to keep his tone optimistic, but his eyes said something else, something Sam caught onto quite readily.

"Bobby, he rebuilt that thing practically from scratch by himself. How are we ever going to find it if he did hide it somewhere in the car? It could be anywhere. Do the words needle and haystack mean anything to you?"

"Then I'll just have to take the car apart piece by piece until I do find it," Bobby persisted, unwilling to give up on the task.

"That could take a lot longer then I think we may have. Remember, the clock's ticking," Sam ominously reminded him with his head now hung low.

"And you remember that it won't do any good for her to off him before she gets what she wants. She ain't gonna wipe out the only piece of leverage she has and you know it. If Dean's gone, you got no reason to give her shit."

"I hope you're right," Sam's tone indicated he wanted to believe the man, but he just seemed to be unable to.

"Listen Sam, I got a buddy not too far from here with a garage. I'll take the Impala there and start digging, but it's gonna take some time. I'd be willing to bet he didn't leave a little red string tied in a bow to it so he could find it later. You think you'll be good here by yourself?"

"As long as she doesn't come back to finish the job, I should be," was the only thing Sam could really say. No, he didn't want to be alone but what choice did he really have?

"I don't think you'll need to worry too much about that. She ain't coming be back until she's got something to come back for. I'd bet money on it," Bobby stated, rather confidently.

"Bet your life on it and maybe I'll believe you," Sam asked but let his heart sink at the answer.

"Sorry kid, I'm not that stupid."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Hours had gone by with neither man saying a word until Sam had finally drifted off into a very light sleep sometime in the wee hours of the morning not long after Dean's personal nurse completed her latest round of respiratory housekeeping. With his head resting against his brother's hot and sweaty shoulder, he fought the much needed slumber until he could ward it off no longer, only to be woken by the ever-present Nurse Debbie, that Bobby was utterly convinced really had been a Dennis at one time, sometime around six in the morning to repeat the dreaded process all over again. Both men followed the unspoken routine and left the room willingly until the burly female motioned that the coast was clear and allowed them back in.

"I think I should take off soon, Sam. The sooner we start tearing that car apart, the better. He doesn't look like he's gettin' any better and I got a bad feeling that that pneumonia might just be a little more than pneumonia," Bobby finally relayed his fears to the younger brother, fears he'd been wrestling with the minute he'd climbed into his truck and made the fateful trip to Montana but had been entirely too cautious to share with the harried man until he thought Sam was ready to hear it.

"Bobby, what do you know that I don't? What is it you're not telling me?" Sam's questions were desperate ones, his need for answers where there were none starting to drive him somewhat mad.

"I don't know anything for sure kid, but I just think it's too much of a coincidence that he got pneumonia again under damn near the exact same circumstances as the first time and I also think it's a little strange that he got that sick that fast. What was it, a matter of a day, maybe two at the most that he went from a 

mild cough that he did a damn good job hiding from you to practically hacking up his lungs to knocking on death's door? It's just a feeling I have Sam, that's all and it's a bad feeling at that."

"You don't think that's what she meant by 'the clock's ticking' do you? Oh god Bobby, what if they gave it to him and his body can't fight the pneumonia? What if it kills him before she does or she just lets it kill him when she could have stopped it like some kind of demonic trump card? What then? All she said is that she would let him live, but she didn't say for how long." He could feel the panic start to rise in the pit of his stomach as he ran his mind through what he now thought to be her sinister plans for Dean's very short future and now wished he hadn't destroyed his cell, the counting down digital stopwatch directly underneath the message that he had neglected to share with the elder man being the real reason for the communication device's ultimate destruction.

"Then I'd say she's shit out of luck, that's what. Don't sweat it Sam, I told you it's just a feeling and I'm not the psychic one, remember. Just old hunter's instincts that are sometimes wrong, nothing more. I'll call you when I get there and start digging in. Who knows, maybe I'll get lucky."

"You can't call me, I broke my phone, remember?" He sorrowfully reminded Bobby as he made his way towards the door.

"Dean's is in the trunk with his coat. I hope there's a charger in there too because the damn thing is dead also?"

"Yeah, it's in there… somewhere. Good luck finding it though; you know what that trunk looks like," he huffed, stealing a quick glance in is brother's direction and thinking about how anal Dean was about keeping the weapons in tip-top shape but not caring about how he stored them.

"Don't worry, I'll unbury it." Without another word between them, Bobby raced for the door and down the hall, leaving Sam to do nothing but dwell on what the man had just laid on him so unceremoniously. With his suspicions rolling around in his head, he started formulating his own plan to ensure his brother's survival, should he be correct in his assumptions.

Within a matter of minutes, Bobby had returned with the phone, the charger, and a full flask of holy water, for what the elder man stated was 'in case of an emergency'. He was out the door and on the road before seven while Sam was left to stare at the white walls and floors all around him. Sinking into the somewhat cushioned chair Bobby had managed to sleep for nearly twelve hours in the day before, he opted to try and fall asleep himself rather than let his mind continue to draw irrational conclusions and not really realizing how exhausted not only his body but his mind was, had fallen into a rather deep sleep not long after being left alone with his brother's failing form.

Sam had no idea how long he had been sleeping when the unusual noise started drifting into his ears to wake him from his much needed rest, the heavy pounding of feet against linoleum still too foreign for his tired mind to decipher from its half-awake state. Rubbing his eyes briskly before opening them to take a good look around and realizing he'd rubbed a little too hard when everything was still blurry, his attention was immediately caught when he noticed Dean's phone resting in his lap, it soundless, vibratory dance the obvious first thing vying for his attention. Mindlessly picking the cell up and looking at the display, he noticed that he'd missed two calls from Bobby in the nearly nine hours he'd been out.

It was the other sounds he heard that his brain tried valiantly to block out until the stream of people came rushing through the door for the second time in less than twenty-four hours, the frantic pace the heart monitor seemed to be screeching out at forcing his mind to focus quickly. Jumping from his less then comfortable chair and finding that his legs hadn't waken with the rest of his body, he would have fallen on his face if his knees hadn't stopped his fall, but the quick glimpse of what was going on across the room would have been enough to make him go weak in the knees itself. Dragging his weary bones back to their feet, he tried shaking some feeling back into his legs and watched in near horror as Dean's body went 

from rigidly stiff one second to limp and uncontrollable the next as convulsions racked him relentlessly from nearly from head to toe.

With his own head starting to swim, Sam found that the entire room had suddenly gone silent as he watched Matt and Sophia slowly and carefully roll Dean's jerking frame onto his side, mindless of the crushed ribs they were putting what Sam thought to be too much weight on and waited for the seizure to pass, only to realize that it was his own brain that was blocking out all the sounds around him and he slunk back down into the chair he'd been sitting in, burying his face in his hands only when he saw that, after nearly five minutes of jerking and twitching, his brother's body had gone completely still.

"What the hell was that?" He nearly screamed to anyone that was listening from his seated position as Dean's phone started to rattle and shake once again, the text coming through it being the one thing that could answer his question with some certainty when the look on Sophia's face pretty much told him she could not.

__

You're too smart for your own good, Sam.  
Tick, tick, tock. Clock's ticking, and Dean's time's running short...

End Notes: Thanks for everyone still hanging around for this one too!!


	24. Chapter 24

_A/N: I know it's been a while since I've updated this one and my apologies for that. I must say that between moving and having no internet, things have been rather difficult. That, and the fact that I am an Olympics junkie (Watching Michael Phelps, how could you not be?) I seem to have slacked off a bit. I hope this update pleases and my apologies again. I'm hoping once summer is over and things slow down… well, you know how it is. ( Hmm… hot, third floor apartment in the dark with an even hotter laptop in, well, your lap or the nice, cool swimming pool? You decide.)_

Chapter 24

The cold chill that ran up Sam's spine as he read the ominous message scrolling across the phone's tiny display gave him a shudder that sent a wave of pain up and down his already stiff back, the nearly nine hours of sleeping in a semi-cushioned chair in exactly the same position leaving nearly every muscle and joint in his entire upper body sore and achy. The message had been short, sweet, and directly to the point, its warning coming in at the exact moment he was about ready to grab the pretty, young doctor by the shoulders to start shaking an explanation out of her. With his question now answered by the most unlikeliest of sources, he just slumped back into the chair that seemed perfectly formed to his body and stared at Matt while he and a few of his female cohorts scurried around preparing for something he wasn't really sure he wanted to see. As he watched Matt and the others briskly scrubbing a circle of his brother's prone lower back down with that orange antiseptic that usually means nothing but trouble, Sophia pulled up the other chair to sit down next to him and he tried to prepare himself for the explanation he knew was coming.

"Are you ok?" The soft-spoken doctor asked the obviously stunned younger brother as she gently rested a comforting hand on his shaking knee, the contact doing nothing to stop the vibrations coursing through the taut muscles underneath his skin. There was what she was sure was a mixture of horror and what she could only assume was anger on his face, but anger at what, she didn't know. She waited patiently for him to answer, not wanting to tell him anything before he may be ready to hear it.

"I'm alright," he mindlessly answered her question, not really believing it but saying it anyway. Turning his misty-eyed stare away from hers and back to the activities a few feet away, he gave her the go ahead to explain why they hadn't laid Dean back flat yet to take the weight off his broken ribs and were now draping him with that sterile, blue dressing that seemed to glue itself to his sweat-soaked skin the instant it made contact. "Is he ok now? What are they doing to him over there?"

"Not really," she began as her looked dropped briefly to the floor before returning up, the classic sign of bad news looming going directly over Sam's head when she noticed he hadn't taken his own stare off Matt. "His fever's up over 105 again and…"

"And now he's having seizures," Sam finished her sentence for her with an obvious tone of contempt, his sights now fully set on her face again. "This day just gets better and better, doesn't it?"

"I know how hard this is for you and I don't want to overload you with more bad news so if you'd rather I not tell you…"

"No, I need to know so just tell me already, please. How much worse can it get?" Sophia was caught off guard slightly by his comment and the look that suddenly spread across her face before she could hide it told Sam more then he really did want to know and he braced himself for the answer to the question he now wished he hadn't asked.

"Grand Mal seizures like that are typically caused by an abnormal overload of electrical activity in the brain. Unfortunately, that's not the case with your brother, as you already know. There isn't enough activity in his brain right now to have caused a seizure that intense which really only leaves one other possible cause," she paused briefly to see if Sam would stop her, but when he said nothing, she continued. "I think he's contracted a pretty virulent strain of pneumonia that may have spread to his brain and I'm worried that he might have meningitis now. It's the only reason I can come up with for that seizure, but I'll have to do a spinal tap to make sure."

"More like demongitis," Sam mumbled under his breath softly enough that it went unheard before turning his head away from Sophia and back to his brother, his heart sickened by the fact that Dean had become nothing more than an abused pawn in these demons dementedly twisted games and was amazed at how efficiently they used the medical community to exact their torture on his brother, torture that was far worse than anything they could probably ever dish out to him on their own. Sam knew that seizure had nothing to do with what was ailing his brother, but figured he better play their game for appearances sake. "Is it going to hurt?"

"I promise, he won't feel a thing," she flashed him that reassuring smile again, obviously waiting for the permission she didn't really need but wanted to have before she went ahead and stuck more needles into his Dean's defenseless body.

"Then do what you have to do," he let out with a heavy sigh as he rose to his feet and headed in the direction of the now closed door. "I'll just go for a walk so I don't have to watch it."

"Wait Sam… I'm sorry, but I can't let you do that," Sophia announced as she stood to cut him off before he could make it out of the room, her insistence that he stay somewhat rattling him.

"If this is going to be anything like that lung vacuuming episode, trust me, you don't want me here. Just ask Matt, he'll tell you," Sam stated flatly and Sophia couldn't help but take a quick look in the male nurse's direction, the look he returned with nothing but his eyes now that he wore a mask on his face telling her that Sam spoke the god's honest truth and knowing it didn't matter anyway.

"Please sit back down Sam and let me finish," Sophia grabbed him by the arm and started pulling him back to the chairs they had just vacated, her voice no longer light and filled with compassion but stern and almost demanding. "I don't know how to tell you this, but until I get the results back, you're going to have to stay in this room."

"What?" Sam barked out in a near state of shock, the normally overpowering need to fixate himself at his brother's side to protect him when he couldn't protect himself suddenly replaced with an intense need to flee. "Why can't I leave this room?"

"When you performed CPR on Dean, did you administer the rescue breathing?"

"Well, yeah, but…"

"What about your uncle? Did he deliver any breaths?"

"No, just me. What are you getting at?"

"Meningitis can be spread through mouth to mouth resuscitation. If your brother has it, he may have given it to you. Until we know for sure whether or not we're dealing with it, you need to stay here and have no further contact with anyone else outside of this room."

"What about you? And Matt? And all those other people at the other hospital?"

"The bacteria that cause meningitis can't live outside the body for more than a minute and all of the emergency room personnel had on a mask and gloves. I'll have to call and inform them we have a suspected case, but they take universal precautions with every patient so it really isn't an issue. Same thing goes for Matt and the rest of the doctors and nurses here," she bluntly stated, leaving no room for questions, except the obvious one.

"But you…"

"Me? Well… I'm young and a little too impetuous sometimes Sam. Since I decided to treat your brother without a mask on, I guess I'll be spending the next few hours while we wait for the test results right in here with you. I didn't exactly share any bodily fluids with him, but better to be safe than sorry," she flashed him that charming grin that had suddenly returned to her face as she slapped him gently on the knee and rose to her feet. She crossed the room in barely any steps and quickly put a mask on her own face before scrubbing her hands from fingertips to elbows. Drawing on a pair of heavy, latex gloves, she could feel the anxiety oozing from Sam from all the way across the room, knowing he didn't want to watch but being unable to look away. "Hey Sam, why don't you duck into the bathroom and give your uncle a call? He called a couple times while you were asleep and it sounded like he really needed to talk to you. I know it's against hospital rules, but I think I can let you break them just this once, considering."

"I think that's a good idea," Sam replied, turning his back to her when she reached for the needle on the tray beside her, the sight of it when she brought it up and towards his brother's back turning his face a sickly shade of white when he noticed just how long and heavy-gauged it was. He was grateful that she held the sharp tip against Dean's flesh but waited for the sound of the door slamming behind her to actually puncture the skin, the mental image of needles his beleaguered brain conjured up giving him another eerie chill.

With the door shut tightly behind him, he cleared the tiny screen on Dean's phone before raising it up to eye level and started dialing, a little voice in the back of his head saying a slight prayer every time he heard the sounds of ringing coming from the other end. Tapping his foot nervously against the linoleum floor as he waited through the first ring, then the second, he almost didn't know what to say when Bobby finally answered on the third, the especially gruff tone telling him what the answer would be before the question was even asked.

"I sure hope your day's goin' better than mine is, Sleeping Beauty," Bobby grumbled loudly into the phone, his irritation evident. "I've torn that car apart from front to back and come up with a big, fat 

nothin'."

"Well. keep hoping Bobby, because right about now I think it's all we've got," Sam's shoulders slumped as he slammed down the toilet seat lid to sit, his respondent voice coming out totally defeated and full of dread. "In fact, I'm beginning to wonder if we even have that anymore."

"Sam, what's wrong?" The question was asked tentatively, the Sugar Plum Fairies suddenly doing their dance inside his stomach a clear indication that as bad as the situation was when he left, it must have somehow gotten worse.

"Dean's temperature spiked back up and he had some kind of seizure a few minutes ago. They had to roll him over onto his ribs that I cracked until he was done convulsing and Sophia thinks he may also have meningitis now, along with the pneumonia he's already got. She's pretty much quarantined me in here with him until she gets the results from the spinal tap she's doing right now to know for sure but since he doesn't have any noticeable brain activity, it's the only reason she can come up with. She said I may have caught it from him when he was dead and I tried…"

"Yeah, I know when," he interrupted to spare Sam the thought. The older man could tell by the way the younger Winchester rambled he was clearly starting to emotionally unravel again and the last thing Bobby wanted was a repeat performance of Sam's unchecked psychic ability. "Well, when it rains, it sure does pour on you two, don't it? How come you aren't sounding too convinced at that diagnosis?"

"Because unless you sent me the text message that came in right after that seizure started, I'm pretty sure it was caused by something else," he flatly stated; his going voice icy cold when he did.

"What text message? What did it say?" The elder hunter started rethinking his assessment of Sam's mental state when he heard the tone and realized there was more to the story that hadn't been told yet.

"It said I was too smart for my own good and that the clock was ticking," Sam repeated the phrase he had read on the phone's display and it finally sunk in what its true meaning had been. "Bobby, she's not going to let him live, bullet or no bullet. I'm sure of it now."

"Why do you say that?" He cautiously asked, still unsure which direction Sam's instincts were taking him.

"Think about it… '_I'm too smart for my own good'_. I knew he didn't just catch pneumonia, they must have given it to him and his body is just too weak to fight it. Her shorting out his mind is probably all that's keeping him alive in the first place. Once she releases her control over him, that infection will probably just start running rampant throughout the rest of his body and straight up to his brain and kill him. Those few seconds she let him go to prove her point to us is probably what did this to him today. Damn it Bobby, she wasn't trying to help us when she burst into that house, she was probably in on the whole entire scheme… hell, she probably masterminded it."

"Ok kid, I think you've totally lost it now. There's no way she's behind all of this, not if she is who she says she is. You don't honestly think Iliana or Belial would voluntarily be exorcised back to hell to help her and Yellow Eyes carry out their big plans considering they aren't exactly the best of friends, do you? Come on Sam, get your head back on straight and focus. What you have to do now that you're pretty sure you know what she's got in store for Dean is to figure out a way to stop her, or at least stall her, while I start taking that engine apart piece by piece to find that damn bullet," Bobby tried to slap some reason back into the very agitated young man with his harsh tone and the heavy sigh he heard from the other end told him he had succeeded in halting the run-away train that was Sam's thoughts. "If I can count on you to just sit there with Dean and be patient, I'll get started on the car now… but if you're gonna continue rambling off half-crazed thoughts, I'm gettin' in it right now and driving back to stop you before you go and do something stupid that you'll probably regret."

"Don't worry, I'm ok now. I guess I just needed to get that all off my chest," Sam assured him, his voice much calmer than it had been moments before and this time the elder man breathed a sigh, mostly of relief.

"Good. Now that your emotional binge and purge has passed, it's time for me to get cracking on that car. You call me if anything else happens that I need to know," Bobby ordered the younger man, his nerves nearly shot right along with Sam's even though he wasn't even there.

"And you call me the second you find anything," Sam shot right back.

"You know I will," he heard the man say before hanging up. Stuffing his brother's cell into his jeans pocket, he turned to the sink and started running the cold water, the handfuls he splashed in his face not refreshing him as much as he had hoped they would. Reaching for the door, he cracked it open just enough to quickly peek out into the room. It had gone mostly quiet on the other side, indicating to Sam that their latest violation of Dean's body had been completed to their satisfaction and he was now being 

allowed to once again languish in his forced sleep.

Stepping out into the room, he thankfully realized he had been correct in his assessment, noticing that his brother was once again flat on his back with all his wires and tubes back in their proper places, his body covered by nothing more than a thin, white sheet from the waist down, leaving his sweaty, blackened and bruised upper half still exposed to continually remind Sam of the carnage it had endured but hadn't survived on its own. Even after sleeping the entire day away, he still found himself utterly exhausted and was almost happy to see that someone had dragged what he now considered to be his chair over to the side of the bed, that same someone that was probably the one sitting in the other chair across the room with her head resting against the back and her eyes closed in a state of deep relaxation. Easing his tired body down into the seat, he grasped hold of Dean's hand and held it in his own, bending it at the elbow to bring it up to his face and resting his cheek on the mattress next to it, ready fall into as deep a sleep as his brother seemed to be in. Sophia had cracked an eye open to watch as he satisfied his clear need for contact and she felt the slightest tinge of jealousy at the unbreakable bond they seemed to have between them.

"You and your brother are really close, aren't you?" She softly asked, not wanting to startle him.

"Yeah, I guess we are. He practically raised me when our mom died and now that our dad's gone too, he's really all I have," he responded to her question without ever opening an eye, now that his head was comfortably resting against his brother's hand, he didn't think he even could.

"I'm so sorry Sam. I only wish there was more I could do for you."

"You're keeping him alive, what more could I ask for, and now you may have meningitis as your thanks."

"Like I said before, I never met a germ I couldn't kill," her smile went unseen, but Sam could tell by her tone that it was there and he could almost in-vision it. "It's going to be a few hours before we get any results and you look beat."

"I slept all day; don't know why I'm still so tired."

"Stress is exhausting Sam and that wasn't exactly a walk in the park, was it? Tired is ok, but the second you start getting a headache or a stiff neck, you better say something because that would indicate there's a bigger problem."

"No headache… just tired."

"Well, get some sleep and I'll wake you when I hear something." With the room now devoid of any sound other than the ones he had reluctantly become very accustomed to, he let his mind drift slowly into sleep with his cheek resting against his brother's clammy hand and his forehead pressed against his shoulder.

He was sure he hadn't been asleep long when he started getting the strange feeling that he wasn't alone, but when he opened his eyes to see who else could possibly be in the room with them besides Sophia, he was met with near total darkness. Without ever rising from his seat, the seat that was no longer within his range of vision, he found himself standing up straight and staring into the total black around him. He could hear something that sounded oddly like a moan coming from somewhere in the distance and as he started in the direction he was pretty sure it had come from, he hoped who or whatever had made it would make it again to guide him. He wasn't disappointed when what he was positive was a pained groan broke through the silence and after just a few more long steps, Sam could see the source.

"Dean," he called out into the pitch dark when he finally caught a glimpse of his brother's still body sprawled out before him, the unnatural red glow around his entire frame unnerving the younger brother more than a little. Resting somewhat on his side, his arms were spread out wide and his head was turned far away, his face pressed hard against his own collarbone. With one leg stretched out to its fullest extent and the other oddly bent at the knee with the foot torque in the wrong direction, Sam was sure someone had twisted him up like a pretzel and just left him there naked and dying. He sprinted the distance between them in world record time while stripping his body of the heavy jacket he seemed to be wearing and dropped hard to his knees to take his brother's head into his lap.

"Sammy? Is that you?" His voice was more of a moan, but it was Dean's voice and Sam was elated just to hear it.

"Yeah Dean, it's me, I'm here," Sam reassured him as he draped his jacket over his brother's totally nude form to cover him, the feel of anything against his skin causing Dean to hiss in discomfort.

"What the hell is going on Sam? Why am I so hot?" Dean nearly demanded to know as he swiped at Sam's coat now covering him, not wanting it against his overheated skin for another second.

"You don't remember? Chester and the evil I's ring any bells?"

"Who's Chester and why's he giving me the evil eye? Sounds like some shitty cover band I must have pissed off last night at some two-bit bar. They the ones that beat the crap outta me and threw me down here in this deep, dark hole that I don't seem to be able to crawl out of… wherever here is," Dean questioned, totally thinking what he just asked made perfect sense. Every word that came out was more agonized than the last as if the act of speaking alone caused him great pain. "And where the hell are my clothes? They didn't try anything…"

"What's the last thing you do remember?" Sam broke Dean's slightly incoherent thoughts, needing to get the point before he woke from what had to be a dream and lost the moment he had miraculously found himself in. _'I guess miracles do happen.'_

"I can't remember shit and every time I try to, something just starts throbbing and I can't think straight anymore either,' Dean mixed his answer with a half-angry, half-pained response. "All I know is I woke up in the dark and can't move a muscle without it feeling like someone's stabbing it in a million places. Where the hell are we anyway?"

"You really don't know?" Sam seemed shocked at the revelation, somewhat relieved that his brother had absolutely no memory of what had happened to him in the last few days.

"How many times do I gotta say it?" The anger was clearly winning in his head, but the pain in his body refused to be outdone. As if he had no control over his own body, Dean suddenly rolled away from Sam and onto his side as his back arced hard, the cry of absolute agony cutting through the air and making Sam cringe. Mindlessly reaching around behind him, Dean pressed his hand hard against his lower back and tried to breathe as he waited for the latest wave of pain to pass. When he thought he could speak again, he tried but only seemed to spit out a raspy whisper. "See, that's what happens when I try to figure shit out. Oh god… Sammy, you gotta get me outta here, I can't take this anymore."

"I'm trying to Dean, I really am but you've gotta help me do that," Sam was nearly in tears by the time his brother had stilled again, his pleading for salvation something the younger brother thought he would never hear from his older sibling. They truly had found a way to break him down.

"How am I supposed to help you? My chest and sides hurt so bad I can barely breathe and it feels like someone's stabbing me in the back with a hot poker every time I actually try to think."

'_So much for not feeling a thing… Sophia.' "_There's only one way out of here Dean and I'm pretty sure you're not going to be in agreement with me on it."

"Whatever it is, just do it Sam," he continued to beg, no longer caring how pathetic he sounded even to his own ears.

"We need the bullet."

"What bullet?" Dean repeated the word as his brows furrowed in confusion. "What are you gonna do, shoot me like a lame horse?"

"The last bullet that came with the colt. We can't get you out of here without it," Sam bluntly informed him and at the answer, the deep creases in Dean's forehead seemed to vanish from the enlightenment.

"Don't have it," he mumbled curtly and Sam could tell by his quickly stated, flippant response that held a serious lack of emotion that Dean was not being totally honest with him.

"Please Dean, I know dad gave it to you for safe keeping but this is your life we're talking about. Just tell me what you did with it and I can get you out of here," it was Sam's turn to beg now, him being the only one that knew how desperate the situation had become, not only in the real world but in this world as well. Wherever she had sent Dean to, she had let him take every ache and pain that had been in his body right along with him and that thought started making him sick.

"Hid it, just like I promised," he mumbled again, clearly trying to avoid Sam's interrogation.

"You hid it where?" He asked, a little more insistently and prayed Dean would eventually break.

"Can't tell you… promised Dad I'd keep it safe," Dean boldly stated, having no intentions of disappointing their father, even in death.

"Dean, you're going to die if you don't tell me where you hid that bullet. I know you promised Dad you'd keep it safe, but you also promised him you'd keep me safe. You can't do that if you're dead, which breaks that promise instead. I guess you have to decide which promise you made to the old man was more important to you," Sam's logic was too much for Dean to take in the constant state of agony he was in, but he continued his battle of wits nonetheless.

"Not fair Sam. There's gotta be another way… you've gotta find another way out. Besides, you always said my loyalty to Dad would kill me someday. Guess you were right," Dean forced a chuckle at that comment, until he tried to force the memory of that actual conversation between the two of them back into his head, the effort initiating the crushing feeling now increasing in his chest.

"There is no other way out Dean. Just tell me where you hid it and I can end this…please," Sam's frantic plea came with the first of many tears that had started rolling down his face, each one landing on his brother's heated cheek as Dean started to roll on the ground again, his arms clutched tightly across his chest.

"Make it stop Sam… please, make it stop," Dean could no longer contain the nearly screamed wail that escaped with his words now that it felt like his entire ribcage was about to implode.

"Dean, please… tell me before it kills you! Where is that god damn bullet?"

"I can't breathe… oh god, it hurts so bad Sam," Dean tried saying through panted breaths as he seized hold Sam's shirt in both his hands and twisted around almost uncontrollably on the floor. "Just make it stop… Sam… please…"

"I can't stop anything until you tell me what you did with the bullet," Sam's hated himself for what he was doing to Dean, but they had no time to waste and he had to know the answer to the question his brother fought so hard not to answer. He was just about at his wits end and ready to admit defeat to Dean's iron will, until he heard the barely spoken words his brother finally settled on using to tell him what he desperately needed to know.

"In the belly… it's safe inside there…" he murmured, his rambled comment being cut off by another intense bellow of pain mere seconds after.

"Ok, ok, calm down. Just breathe, slow, deep breaths," Sam's tried soothing Dean now that he was beyond anguished, his breaths not even coming in short bursts anymore. His brother had given up on trying to breathe and resorted to just holding his breath instead.

"Can't take deep breaths… hurts too much," he moaned, the unbearable agony slowly starting to subside as each long moment passed by now that Sam was no longer badgering him to remember what he did with… what was it, he couldn't even remember what it was Sam wanted to know so badly anymore.

"I know. Just relax now and try to get some sleep. I swear, this will be over soon."

"Can't fall asleep… try to, just can't. Been laying here awake in the dark listening to nothing for… don't know anymore and don't care. Why does everything hurt Sam? What the hell is happening to me?" He sounded so feeble and childlike when he asked his younger brother the question as he started to go limp, no longer having any energy of any kind to do anything and not wanting to anyway.

"I'll explain it all to you later. Oh god Dean, I don't want to leave you like this, but the sooner I go…"

"It's ok… you go. I'll still be here when you come back… if you come back."

"SAM… SAM, WAKE UP," he heard a distinctly feminine voice screaming at him as his body shook somewhat violently and he jerked his eyes open wide when it hit him that he was once again sitting next to his brother's bed; his brother that was still laying beside him it unable to wake, talk, or even breathe. Shaking his head slightly to help clear the hazy thoughts that were still lingering inside it, he looked up at Sophia, who stared back at him somewhat frightened.

"What's wrong?"

"You tell me. First you were talking to Dean in your sleep, talking that progressed into yelling that turned into crying," she told him as she wiped a hand across his tear-streaked cheek to prove to the man that she was telling him the truth. "That must have been one hell of a nightmare."

Still clutching Dean's hand in his own, Sam stared into his brother's vacant face, the slight twitch at the corner of his eye that the younger man was convinced had been a wink being all the confirmation he would need to gently rest his arm back down onto the bed and bolt for the bathroom. Slamming the door behind him and locking it, he searched for the phone he was sure he had shoved in a pocket somewhere and firmly pressing 'redial' the second he found it and pulled it out. Bobby's gravelly voice filled his head, but before he could say anything other than Sam's name, the younger Winchester cut him off, his excitement almost making his knees go weak.

"Bobby, listen to me… I know where he hid it. I know where Dean hid that damn bullet!"


	25. Chapter 25

_A/N: Yes, this goes a little off onto a tangent and I'm not really sure where I was going with it myself. It is coming down to the last chapter though, of that I am almost positive. Thanks to all that read, I do so appreciate all the time you have taken to share my strange thoughts and thank you for all the patience when it takes forever to update._

Chapter 25

Glancing at his watch before reaching for the phone buried deep in his vest pocket as the all-too-familiar ringtone started blaring from its tiny speaker, Bobby couldn't help but frown slightly when he realized it had already been two hours since he last spoke to Sam and he had barely even touched the car yet. He'd been working on it all day and between emptying the mess in the trunk piece by piece and searching all of the hidden compartments inside, pulling out the seats, floor mats, and carpets to check every area of the interior, then dismantling the entire dashboard from one side to the other only to have to put everything back together again when he found absolutely nothing, he seriously needed a break. He hadn't really planned on starting in on the engine today considering how monumental of a task that promised to be, until he heard from Sam, that is. As impatient as he was, Bobby didn't think the near frenzied young man would be calling so soon for an update which could only mean one thing; something had to be wrong. Sucking in a deep breath before answering, and not entirely sure he wanted to know what might be going on at the other end of the call, he opened the phone, hit the talk button, pressed the cell hard against his ear and waited for the bad news.

"Sam…" was all he got out before the frantically shrill screech of what was obviously a very hyper young Winchester sliced through his head, the intense volume causing him to pull the phone away from his ear to stared at it, half expecting Sam to actually climb through.

"Bobby, listen to me… I know where he hid it! I know where Dean hid that damn bullet!" Sam nearly shrieked with what could only be described as sheer delight into the mouthpiece, his voice coming out at a nearly eardrum rupturing level.

"What?" The stunned elder hunter responded, his surprise at the rapidly blurted statement leaving him to offer nothing more than the one word phrase.

"I said I know where Dean hid the bullet Bobby!" Sam shouted again at an even louder pitch, his enthusiasm almost uncontainable as he paced the small space of the room like a caged lion.

"I know, I heard 'what' you said the first time you squealed it in my ear … hell, the entire eastern seaboard probably heard you the first time you barked it," Bobby shot back, his own stomach starting to flutter with anticipation as he listened to the near contagious joy in the young man's tone. "What I meant by 'what' was what is it that you think you know and how do you know it?"

"He told me…" Sam quickly announced right back before the older man could barely finish his question, only to pause in his thoughts a little too long for the impatient elder hunter to wait.

"Who told you? Damn it Sam, will you spit it out already?"

"Dean told me. Dean told me where to find it," he matter-of-factly blurted as if Bobby should already know who Sam had been talking about all along.

"Dean told you? How the hell did Dean tell you anything? He's not awake, is he?" He asked rather suspiciously, his own excited tone now filled with a slight measure of doubt at what Sam was trying to tell him.

"Not exactly," Sam stammered slightly when the mournful jab he took to his heart made itself known. He wanted nothing more than to be able to tell the man that really was like family that yes, his brother was awake and aware and it broke that heart to have to admit to Bobby that that just wasn't the case, but he did seem to have a slight glimmer of hope starting to shine now and was starting to actually believe that that may just happen eventually. Judging by the older man's sudden downward change in tone, he didn't think Bobby necessarily agreed.

"What exactly does _'not exactly' _mean, Sam? What'd he do, whisper it to ya in his sleep."

"Well… sort of," Sam started, the memories of what he had to characterize as a dream still fresh in his mind, yet knowing that what he had just experienced had been so much more than that. His voice took a sudden, somber turn as he continued to speak when the echoes of his brother's anguished cries reverberated in his head, his excitement quickly replaced with a sense of urgency instead. "I connected to him somehow, wherever it is she's got him trapped. He told me where to look."

"Aw hell Sam, tell me he didn't 'cuz if he told you that means he told her too. Don't you think for one 

second that she wasn't eavesdropping on the two of you."

"Well, he didn't outright tell me but I know what he meant."

"Just tell me exactly what he told you, not what you think he was telling you. If she can send you text messages from hell, she can probably listen in on what we're talking about right now. Better to be safe than sorry," Bobby warned, knowing that Sam was too blinded by his sudden knowledge to take the necessary precautions to protect it.

"He said it's safe in the belly," he repeated what Dean had said and listened to the man on the other end try to decipher its cryptic meaning. He let out a heavy sigh before saying a word, a heavy sigh that said he thought they were pretty much right where they had started from.

"Sam, I already tore apart the…" he started to remind the anxious younger brother, but said young man already knew where he was going with his thoughts and redirected them the first chance he got.

"Bobby, think like Dean… not like Dad. You know what he always says after he …"

"Don't say another word Sam! I think I know where you're going with this. I'll call you back when I've got something," Bobby's optimism clearly had returned in his voice before turning slightly ominous when he continued. "You just be careful and keep an eye on that brother of yours in case she took what he said literally. Last thing we need is her trying to tear him inside out looking for something that isn't there."

"Bobby, you don't think she'd do that, do you?"  
"Right now, I'm not really sure what to think about that demon bitch. Just stay sharp and I'll call you when I'm done."

Snapping his phone shut and stuffing it back into his pocket, he stared at the few parts he had actually started taking out from under the hood and wondered to himself why he hadn't thought of where Sam had just told him to look sooner. _'Must be losing my touch in my old age,' _he toyed with the notion as he kicked the creeper in the direction of the Impala and grabbed a flashlight. Dropping down and rolling underneath the car that Dean had painstakingly put back together after what he was convinced had been its near total destruction, Bobby didn't even need to turn on the beam to know that Sam had put him on the right track. Even in the dim light, he could clearly see the devil's trap that Dean had obviously etched onto the smooth surface of the car's fuel tank, making it impossible for anything that wasn't human to access the tiny treasure that he was now pretty sure must be hidden inside. Running his finger along the roughened surface, he let out a slight huff before chuckling to himself.

"That kid might just be a friggin' genius," he mumbled as he slid back out and groped for the wrench he knew he had left lying somewhere on the ground in the general vicinity, thanking whatever deity had finally decided to smile on them and give them a break when he figured out how easy this was potentially going to be. With nearly no gas left in the car, he knew it wouldn't take long to drop the tank to get at what was inside and with a little more hopeful attitude now in place, he slid back under the car and went to work.

He had barely reached up far enough up to even touch the tank when his eyes caught a glimpse of the trap again, the sight of the symbol meant to protect the contents of what it was branded on striking him with an odd feeling, almost as if someone, somewhere was trying to warn him of something that he couldn't quite put a finger on. Deciding he needed to leave nothing to chance, he pulled himself out from under the heavy vehicle and jumped to his feet as the wheels in his head started turning just a little faster than they already had been. Whether it came from old age or just plain experience, he had tried to put some order into the mess of a trunk that seemed to have none and he was glad that he had. Taking one of the many flasks the brothers' had stashed under the false bottom that Bobby had left up while trying to make some sense of Dean's organizational skills, he made his way to the interior of the car and dug through the glove box in search of the thick, black Sharpie he knew for a fact was in there. With the permanent marker in hand, he duplicated the symbol adorning the tank onto the flask to ensure that the troublesome little item that would decide Dean's fate went from one safe place directly to another. Tucking the flask securely into a pocket, he quickly crawled back under the car to get cracking and hoped that he could get to the bullet before that crazy demon woman decided to grace him with her presence instead of Dean.

"Sam… are you ok in there?" Sophia asked as she gently rapped her knuckles against the door when she heard nothing but quiet coming from the other side now that the rather heated conversation he 

seemed to be having had finally come to an end. Stepping back and to the side slightly when she heard the clicking of the lock, her gaze fell immediately on Sam's nearly manic face as he exited the bathroom, his expressions rapidly changing from one to another to yet another in a matter of seconds. He smiled when their eyes met as he walked past her like a man without a care in the world and for a moment, she thought there was a good chance he had finally gone completely over the edge. Without saying another word, she watched totally transfixed as Sam marched back to the bed and reached for Dean's hand. Grasping the overly warm palm in his own and wrapping his fingers tightly around it as his brother's finger's brushed against the back of his hand but hung loose and limp, he drew the entire arm up to his chest as he bowed his head down and started whispering into what was probably a deaf ear, but he said what he needed to say nonetheless.

"Man, I hope you can hear me wherever it is she's got you trapped. Just hold on a little longer and I swear this'll all be over soon," Sam spoke so softly that even if Sophia had been standing right next to him, she didn't think she would have been able to hear what he was saying to his brother and she really didn't think she had a right to intrude anyway. "I know you're gonna be pissed when you find out what we did but I can't let those damn demon's kill you, I just can't. They've already taken too much from us and you're more important to me than your damn sense of loyalty to dad is to you. So, get as mad at me as you want because I am so ready to take it. At least if you're pissed at me, I'll know you're back in there where you belong and hey, you'll get over it eventually."

As if in response to what was being said, Sam had to let out the heavy sigh of relief he had been holding in when he felt his brother's fingers tighten around his own for only the briefest of seconds before falling lax again and if Sam didn't know any better, he would swear that Dean had heard every word he said and was already preparing his younger sibling for the wrath he would be incurring later. Giving the squeeze right back with a firm one of his own, Sam snickered lightly and took up the issued challenge. "Whenever you're ready, you just bring it on jerk… but leave Bobby out of it because he's just doing what he thinks is best for you too."

With his mind set somewhat at ease for the time being, Sam seemed to be able to think a little more clearly and as Dean's agonized words, followed right behind by Bobby's clearer-headed ones, subliminally repeated themselves in his head, he came to the decision that he wasn't going to just sit around and wait for her to come back to finish his brother off; not without a fight. Turning his attention away from Dean's ravaged body and onto the face that had been staring at him silently since his one-sided conversation began, he started thinking straight for the first time in almost two days.

"Sophia?" He began, trying to prioritize his thoughts as he went. "How much longer before we get those test results?"

"Maybe another hour or two, why?" She knew she had to ask. "Do you feel alright?"

"I feel fine, it's just that …well, I haven't eaten all day and I'm a kinda hungry. Any chance of getting some food brought up here since we aren't allowed to leave to get any ourselves?"

Breathing a silent sigh of relief before glancing at the clock on the wall, then back to Sam, she rolled her eyes to the ceiling in thought for a second before answering his question. "It's well past six and I think the cafeteria's closed now but I can give a call down to see if there's anything still worth eating that they could send up here," Sophia stated as she thought she actually saw a slight twinkle in the young man's eye.

"Yeah, that'd be great… and can you see if they can send up a box of salt too?" He coyly threw in the additional request.

"A box of salt?" Sophia couldn't hide her surprise when she processed what Sam had just asked for in her own mind, her voice full of weird curiosity.

"A big box of salt," the smiling young man added on as if what he wanted wasn't odd enough already.

"What on earth for? You have some kind of weird eating habit I should know about because hospital food may be bad but it's not that bad and I must say that too much salt is not good for the body, Sam?"

His grin went wide and he had to chuckle to himself as he shook his head in the negative, knowing there was no good way to explain his unusual request that wouldn't get him put into a straightjacket long before he would ever see even a packet of sodium come his way. "No, nothing like that. We're kind of a superstitious family and my uncle reminded me of something we always do when someone's sick when we were on the phone just now. I know it sounds a little crazy but it really would make me feel a lot better if we could just…" Sam lowered his eyes and stared at the tips of his shoes momentarily before turning his sight back up to Sophia's with that woeful, misty-eyed hazel gleam in them and she just couldn't seem to say 'no' to him.

"Ok, a box of salt… correction, a big box of salt. I'll see what I can do," she grinned at him as she 

reached for the phone next to the bed and Sam listened to every word that was said from her end, the salt request being the only part of the entire order he was the least bit interested in. Shaking her head as she placed the receiver back into the cradle, Sam waited with baited breath for her response.

"I sure hope microwaved meatloaf, lumpy mashed potatoes and over-steamed carrots sounds good to you right now because I'm starting to think that that box of salt they're bringing up with it may not be enough to make that even close to palatable," she shook her head and frowned when she repeated what was on the menu as Sam's face lit up just a little more. Yes, Sam had totally lost it, of that she was now almost positive.

"Meatloaf sounds awesome."

"You've obviously never had the meatloaf here. Remember what I said about hospital food not being that bad? Forget it, I lied," Sophia nearly whined.

"So, you're saying it's a good thing we're in a hospital before we eat it?"

"Actually, we'd probably be better off eating it down in the morgue; that would at least save us the elevator ride," she joked, or at least he hoped she joked.

With his first order of business addressed and satisfied, Sam had to turn his attention to the one thing that had been bothering him more than anything else since he had been pulled out of Dean's mental prison and back into the real world. Forcing his anxious excitement down a notch to allow him the patience to sit back down into the chair next to his brother's bed and taking that hot hand back into his own in the hopes that somehow Dean would know he was there, he rested his free hand across his brother's sweaty forehead, turned that sorrowful gaze back on and stared into the young doctor's equally saddened eyes.

"He's in agony, you know?" Sam let what he thought was just a thought slip out of his mouth in actual words before he could think of the proper way to phrase what he wanted to tell Sophia without sounding crazy as yet another comment of his seemed to stun her. Sam had to turn away when he saw the look she gave him, that demanding glare that he'd only seen once before when she forbid him from leaving the room and it made him equally as nervous now as it had then. _'Maybe I should throw some salt on the foot that's in my mouth right now,' _he couldn't help but think as he felt her glare on his him.

"What makes you say that, Sam?" She broached the subject cautiously; her curiosity very much peaked once again.

"I don't know… it's like I can almost feel it oozing from him every time I touch him. I can't explain how I know he's as much pain as he is in, I just know," he tried bullshitting, knowing full well he couldn't tell the doctor that he had somehow seen it with his own two eyes and heard it from his brother's own lips when he had been miraculously thrust into another realm along with Dean's consciousness. Sam had no clue if medicating his brother's body would do anything for the sheer agony his soul was in, but figured it couldn't hurt any. All he had to do was convince Sophia, who clearly looked like she wasn't buying what Sam was selling.

"Sam, I know how badly you want to believe that, but there's just no evidence to indicate your brother can feel anything," she tried to reassure him and when she was sure she had his undivided attention, she turned her eyes away from his and onto the monitors in the corner; the dead, flat monitor in particular before looking back at him and hoping that had been explanation enough.

Undaunted in his determination, Sam's own stare never wavered as he silently motioned for her to come closer and when she was within his arm's reach of her, he grabbed hold of her hand and pressed it flat against Dean's brow. He could feel her cringe slightly at the contact, almost as if the sweat-soaked skin her palm was now plastered to was electrified in some way and when Sam saw her facial expression change from insistent to perplexed, he released his loose grip on her wrist and let his eyebrows do most of the talking.

"Tell me you didn't feel that just now and I won't say another word," he dared her to try and deny what he knew full well she now inexplicably knew to be the truth.

"Alright Sam, you win. I'm still not entirely convinced but I guess it really won't hurt any," she conceded as much as she was willing to but to Sam it was enough to claim victory. He listened as she shuffled around on the other side of the bed but never turned to look in her direction until he was sure she was through. She waited for a few long minutes before attempting to rest the back of her hand across her patient's head again and was a bit taken aback when she didn't get that sudden jolt of whatever it had been she had noticeably felt the first time she touched the elder brother. "If anything, maybe it'll help bring that fever down a little."

Sam was sure that the little extra she had given him had offered him some relief for the pain he was 

undeniably in, but the thought of the scarily high fever hadn't crossed his mind since before he had fallen asleep. "Is it still that high?"

"It's back under 105, but it's still too damn high. I really hope the results of the cultures come back soon because he's been on an extremely high dose of a rather wicked antibiotic cocktail for at least forty-eight hours now and he hasn't shown not one iota of improvement," she was starting to talk in the defeated tone Sam had been using and it was Sam that now sounded like the optimistic one.

"He will… trust me."

Sophia was about to retort to Sam's sudden, newly positive attitude when she was silenced by a hard knock on the glass, the smiling face of Matt on the other side giving her cause to smile slightly back. Raising a finger to tell Sam she would be more than happy to get the door, she took the few short paces quickly and cracked a small opening between the inside and the out and addressed the nurse quietly.

"Isn't your shift over at six?" She asked him as she stuck just her face through the opening, curious as to why the man was still uncharacteristically lingering about. She knew Matt well and he was never one to hang out longer then he was being paid to and delivering food from the bowels of the hospital, no less. "What are you still doing here?"

"I just thought I'd hang out until the test results come back. I mean, I'm a little more than curious to know if the dude's got a one way ticket to the basement or not," Matt callously whispered back through the partially open doorway but his body language said so much more. "We can't seem to get a handle on the pneumonia, what makes you think we can even put a dent in a brain infection? If you ask me, that brother of his should just pull the plug now and put the poor guy out of his misery. He's got nothing going on upstairs anyway so why prolong the inevitable?"

"Ok Matt, that's enough," she angrily barked in the man's face to shut him up and prayed that Sam hadn't heard a word he had said, which thankfully he hadn't. "Why don't you just go home? I think it's pretty safe to say that Dean will still be here in the morning, meningitis or not."

"That's ok, I don't mind waiting around a little while longer. Besides, we should know in an hour or two if his brain's totally fried anyway," Matt tried to say it as casually as he could as he winked an eye at her but Sophia could clearly see right through his pathetic attempt at acting nonchalant.

"Matt… is there something you're trying to tell me?"

"Nah. Nothing that comes to mind, anyway," he responded and the instant he did, Sophia could see what he was hiding written in bold letters across his face.

"You were exposed, weren't you?" She asked, not really questioningly but deductively.

"Umm… Maybe," he confessed, knowing he couldn't deny what she had already figured out.

"When?"

"I may have forgotten to put a mask on when his brother was watching me like a hawk the first time I suctioned out his trach tube. Not really a big deal but…"

"Not really a big deal? Tell that to the people you may have spread it to after leaving this room knowing full well what you may have been taking with you," she angrily whispered as she gave Sam a quick glance to ensure he wasn't really listening to their conversation.

"Chill out Sophia, I haven't had any contact with anyone since I walked out of this room. I made damn sure of it so get off my back," he tried defending his actions to no avail. "The preliminaries are negative anyway so…"

"You know I could have you fired for this, don't you?"

"But you won't," he winked at her again. "I'm your favorite cousin, remember?"

"Hey asshole, you're my only cousin," she scoffed as she threw the door open just wide enough to take the cart Matt had been rolling along in front of him. Wheeling it into the room, she slammed the door shut behind her and childishly stuck her tongue out at the man on the other side of the glass that had blew her a kiss before turning to Sam and smiling.

"You two got a thing going?" Sam questioned her in an odd sounding, overprotective tone that gave her a bit of a chill.

"Yeah, it's called my mom and his mom are sisters. He's the closest thing to a brother I've got… lucky me, huh?" She shook her head at that thought and wondered to herself how two people could ever be as close as the two brothers in front of her obviously were and wished she had that herself.

"Someone's better than no one," he thought distantly, remembering the time he had left his brother with only their father, which was pretty much like leaving him all alone.

"You have obviously never been to Disneyland with Matt," she commented with a slight hint of sarcasm which only seemed to add to Sam's melancholic thoughts.

"We've never been to Disneyland at all," he mumbled slightly back to her as he stood and rounded the bed, reaching for the big, blue box of salt sticking out like a sore thumb against the white plates on the cart Matt had brought up. Sophia watched him silently as he opened the spout but did finally speak when he started spreading the grainy, white substance out onto the floor across the entryway to the room.

"What the heck are you doing Sam?"

"Keeping the bad out," he continued to mumble as he completed his line in front of the door, the door that was the one and only entrance to the room they stood in.

"You know someone's going to come and clean that up, don't you?"

"Then I'll just put more down. Can you just humor me for a little while, please? At least until…" _'Until we can call off Yellow Eyes' pitbull' _he wanted to say but obviously couldn't. "…until Dean's better."

"I guess, if that makes you feel better," she shook her head with the concession, his odd behavior seeming to magnify the interest she had in him. She decided she'd let him do just about anything solely to see what kind of weird things he'd do next. "Now that you've protected us from evil, why don't you sit down and eat something?"

Sam had to laugh at that crack. _'If she only knew,' _he thought as he grabbed the heavy plate off the tray, the smell of the food alone making his stomach growl loud enough for them both to hear it. He didn't even bother to sit and as Sophia stared at him in awe once again, he had finished every last piece of food before she could even tear her eyes off him to start in on her own. Tossing the emptied dish back down onto the cart it had been brought up on, he dragged the chair he had been sitting on from the spot it had been in on the left into a spot on the right and directly between the bed and the door. Without saying another word, he dropped down hard into the seat and took up a sentry position between his brother and the hallway to make sure nothing would get past him and into the room.

Minutes crept by at a snail's pace, the silence in the room intensifying Sam's anxious anticipation that something was about to happen as the relaxing quiet put Sophia into a light state of sleep. The doctor and the hunter both let out a slight gasp when dueling cell phones started chirping simultaneously through the still room, the one in Sam's hand playing some obnoxiously annoying heavy metal tune as Sophia's just beeped and vibrated. Sam didn't need to look at who was trying to reach him before answering his call and he drifted into a far corner to do so as he heard Sophia answer her own.

"Bobby…" he started out warily, hoping the master mechanic had done what both men thought to be damn near impossible mere hours before.

"I've got it Sam," the older man whispered back as if trying to keep the news he had to share some sort of secret between the two of them. "I'm on my way back."

"How long before you get here?"

"If I hoof it, I'll be there in a little over an hour."

"I think you better hoof it then."

"Why? That bitch ain't there already waitin' for me to claim her prize, is she?"

"No, but Sophia's on the phone too and judging by the way she's looking at Dean, I don't think she has anything positive to tell me."


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

Sam really hadn't heard what Bobby had said in response to his reason for wanting the man to ride a bolt of lightning back to the hospital when he saw Sophia close her phone and slip it back into her pocket before she looked him in the eye and started speaking at him with no regard to who he may already be talking to. She had a pretty good idea who was on the other end anyway and it was the exact other person she wanted to hear what she had to say.

"Sam, is that your uncle on the phone?" She cut into his conversation with a bit of urgency in her voice and the younger brother clearly heard that whatever the older man was saying had quickly been silenced.

"Yeah, why?"

"I'm sure he'll want to hear what I have to tell you too, so you may as well keep him on the line. Saves you from having to explain everything to him later," Sophia's logic was probably one of the smartest things Sam had heard all day considering his head was almost completely in a fog by now and he acknowledged the suggestion by pulling the phone away from his ear and put it in speaker mode.

"So, is it good news or bad news?" He mumbled as he tried to decipher the somewhat ominous look on her face once he was sure Bobby could hear her clearly. There was a slight frown at the corners of her mouth but she was obviously more perplexed than upset.

"Both, I guess," she began as she came a little closer to both man and mouthpiece before continuing. "Good news is Dean doesn't have meningitis, which is a most definite blessing because as bad as the bad news is, that would have made the bad news a whole lot worse if he did."

"Do I even want to know what the bad news is?" Sam needed more than anything to feel relieved when he heard the first part of what she had just said but couldn't bring himself to when he heard the second half of the sentence come out in an overwhelmingly negative tone. "How bad is the bad news?"

"His kidneys are starting to shut down," she began without any sugarcoated preparation, trying to piece what she had to tell both men together in laymen's terms before sharing it with them and continued when she saw that Sam wasn't going to say anything to interrupt her, although the look on his face indicated he was resisting the urge to do otherwise. "Between the high doses of antibiotics and well over forty eight hours of a fever hovering between 104 and106, they just can't keep up with the demand of his body with his oxygen intake compromised and his blood pressure as low as it is. I'm beginning to wonder if that fever is the only thing keeping the bacteria in him from spreading throughout his entire system because the antibiotics don't seem to be having any effect and are probably doing more harm than good."

"And what happens if they shut down altogether?" Bobby chirped from the phone's little speaker when it was obvious Sam couldn't find his own voice to speak.

"He'll have to be started on dialysis, but we'll worry about that if the time comes. For now, we start with medicating the problem, make adjustments in the antibiotics, back off on the dosage just a little and wait. As much as I want to bring that fever down, I think it's the only thing he really has fighting for him at the moment and by the looks of things, it's not winning."

"Why am I not surprised," Sam finally said in a tone of sheer disgust, Bobby being the only one to really pick up on it.

"Listen Sam, I'm going to go track down a friend of mine that's a specialist in this particular field. He'll do everything in his power to keep your brother's kidneys from totally failing. I'm going to go see if I can track him down if you're alright here."

"Yeah, go. Do what you have to do," Sam's mind wandered as he gave her permission to leave, his thoughts clearly elsewhere.

"I'll be back as soon as I can. In the meantime, you may want to take that walk now because the nurses will be in here any minute to perform their usual duties now that the coast is clear."

"That's ok, I think I'll stay right here for now," Sam coldly replied as he turned off the speaker phone and wandered towards the door behind Sophia when she drifted in that same direction, initiating conversation with Bobby only when he saw her leave the room and head briskly down the hall.

"Bobby, you got that bullet in a safe place?"

"Safe as Fort Knox, why? What're you thinkin' Sam?"

"Just lead foot it here… I've got a plan," he rather rudely instructed his elder before slapping the phone closed with a tad too much force and shoved it into his pocket as if not wanting to touch it again. He hoped Bobby had been driving while he had been talking and not wasting the last ten minutes because according to Sophia, they didn't really have ten minutes to spare anymore.

He could barely glance for more than a second or two at his brother's face as it held the appearance of 

total serenity, knowing there was a war being waged inside his body that was clearly being lost as each moment that his consciousness wasn't controlling it passed, the guilt that was ever present in his mind that Dean may be dying because of him yet again a heavy weight on his shoulders. Forcing his eyes to fall on the expressionless face, he took the hand that he was sure connected the two of them together earlier and started speaking to his brother's rapidly deteriorating form in the hopes that he could hear him as he seemingly had before.

"Hey man, I know you can hear me wherever you are so listen up. I have never known you to give up on anything, ever… and now would not be the right time to start being a quitter. I know you body isn't fighting back because you're not in there to fight for it and you really can't do a damn thing about it from where you are anyway but let me just tell you, you're gonna be back in there in no time and you're definitely gonna have your work cut out for you. You just gotta hang on a little while longer, please. I didn't drag your ass back from the dead for you to just up and die again. I'm gonna fix this, I swear to you," Sam's voice started to break at nearly the same instant Nurse Debbie entered the room and on the off chance that Dean did hear every word, he was almost grateful for the interruption. He'd already given his brother enough material to chastise him with over the last two days; he sure as hell didn't need to add to it. Without saying a word, he acknowledged the woman's presence and stepped over the salt line to walk out the door, deciding to walk away only far enough to keep an eye on who would be trying to go in and out over the next few minutes.

No one else came or went as he paced the hall for nearly fifteen minutes while waiting for Debbie to leave and the second she vacated the room, Sam was right back inside, seated back in that chair he had strategically positioned between his brother's helpless body and the only entrance to the room. There, he sat and waited for whoever would show up first and prayed it would be Bobby. He had two plans in mind, but the easier of them both relied on the bullet showing up first, which after not quite an hour passing since he had disconnected his call from the man that had the accursed item in his grasp, it did.

"You gonna fill me in on this little plan of yours, Sam or do I just improvise?" The seasoned hunter asked once he was beyond the salt line and fully in the room, his curiosity building since the young man had blurted it out to him but hanging up before elaborating.

"Right after I make this call," Sam grinned somewhat as he dug Dean's cell from his pocket and started punching buttons. Scrolling through the list of messages, he settled on the one he really could have gone the rest of his life without ever reading again. It had no number attached, but Sam was relatively confident it would get where it was going. With his fingers flying across the little keypad, it didn't take long for him to type in what he had to say and after hitting send, he tossed Bobby the phone for him to see the message he had just sent. "Now we sit and we wait."

Bobby cocked his head as he read Sam's response to the original message declaring his over-intelligence and almost chuckled out lout at it.

"_Hey bitch, we dug up your bone. Come get it.'_

Handing the phone back to Sam as the young man started to expound on what he thought to be an ingenious plan, he did the only thing both men could do… he sat and waited.

"You invite me over then won't let me in… that's pretty damn rude don't you think, Sam?" The all-too-familiar voice that Sam had grown to loathe echoed throughout the room from the open doorway, its fingernails-on-a-chalkboard-like quality startling both men from the silent waiting game they had just started playing. She stood and waited just outside the door tapping her finger against the jamb, her borrowed body unable to cross the salt barrier still in place to protect what lie on the other side. "Then again, you Winchesters never were ones for manners, were you?"

"That's funny, you giving me a lesson in manners," Sam snidely shot back. "You're the one that couldn't tell me the truth if it was written on cue cards and all you had to do was read from them but I'm the one with poor manners."

"Now Sam, I'm offended. I haven't lied to you, not once," she snidely retorted at Sam's accusation.

"Really? If you haven't lied to me then why is my brother still dying? I may not be a doctor but I know that once the kidneys go down, the rest of the organs usually follow right behind. You're doing this to him, aren't you? You never had any intentions of letting him live any longer than you needed him to," Sam growled at her, never once looking away from those blood red eyes that seemed to stare at both him and Bobby at the same time.

"On the contrary, I want him to live more than anyone, despite my feelings for him. He may prove somewhat useful in the near future," she grinned, obviously knowing something Sam didn't.

"You want him to live but you're slowly killing him. You really make no sense."

"Listen up Sam, because I'm gonna give you the whole skinny. Believe all of it, some of it, or none of it if you want but I can assure you it's the god's honest truth," she huffed slightly to relay her disgust at the word 'god', but continued when Sam said nothing to challenge her proclamation of honesty. "You were partially right and partially wrong… well, considering that your thoughts waffle more than a politician caught with his pants down and his ass up that's no big surprise but that's neither here nor there. Remember the darts that Mary Kate and Ashley shot you two with? The one they used on you had a rather harmless tranquilizer in it that let you take a nice little nap but that one they nailed Dean with, well, that one had a little added kick to it. Nothing like a good, strong staph cocktail to get your already assaulted immune system bacterially intoxicated to the point of passing out, is there? Guess you could say it was like a pneumonia roofie."

"It was you bitches that made him that sick then, wasn't it?" Bobby finally spoke from the far corner he had drifted to at the initial sound of her voice, cradling what clearly looked like a book in his hands that he was starting to discreetly open. "I knew that pneumonia he caught was a little too coincidental."

"What is it with you hunters always comparing me to a female dog? I am not covered in hair and I do not walk on all fours, however if you insist on opening that book any farther to try and exorcise me over there old man, just remember that when I go down to hell, I take Dean with me," she directed her statement at Bobby now almost as if she could read his thoughts. "I know what you're thinking but I can assure you that sending me back to hell will not save your precious Dean or keep that bullet in your possession. I go down, he goes down and I gotta tell you that I've always wanted a pet of my own. I think he'd make a great lap dog, don't you? So obedient and loyal. I'm afraid I'd have to keep him chained up though so he doesn't bite the neighbors when I'm away. Oh, and did I mention that I have a backstage pass to the warmest show on earth while poor Dean there just has lawn seats? Sing me whatever song from your little book there you want to Bobby Singer, but when the party's over I'll still be hanging with the band while Dean just… well, just hangs."

"What's the matter, little paranoid there?" Bobby grinned as he came a little closer to the door, holding up the old, weathered copy of the hard covered book he held in his hands for her to see with her own eyes. "It's just _'The Catcher in the Rye'._"

"Oh, the assassin's book of choice, how quaint. Were you really planning on getting rid of me that easily?"

"The thought had crossed our minds but…" Sam interjected this time with a hint of arrogance in his voice.

"But nothing Sam. If you can figure out how to save your brother without me, by all means have at it. Let me ask you something though, how much longer do you think that body will last without a soul inside of it? It's already deteriorating faster than even I thought it would now that it's empty. Those 'bitches', as you so fondly call them, did this to him just in case he decided to say no to them. Do you know what they planned on doing if he wouldn't agree to their terms?" She didn't stop to even take a breath after posing her question, she just kept rambling and both men just kept listening. "They planned on letting you watch and listen as he drowned in his own infected fluids. Not exactly a pleasant way to die, is it? I had nothing to do with making him that sick but believe me when I say that I can continue keeping him sick until he just dies if you insist on not living up to your end of the bargain. There's a good reason all those antibiotics haven't been working yet and it has nothing to do with their efficacy. There is a point of no return for him Sam. Do you really want to find out what it is; assuming Dean hasn't fallen beyond it already?"

"Oh, I plan on living up to my end of the bargain…"

"Then hand over the bullet and I'll be on my merry way," she sneered, her patience clearly running thin.

"Not so fast, you didn't let me finish. I will live up to my end of the bargain just as soon as you live up to yours."

"Sam, your brother's not dead yet, is he? I have already lived up to my end. We should probably wrap this up soon because I'm pretty sure that cute little doctor you've got the hots for is on her way back with that specialist in tow. If she shows up and makes me leave, trust me Sammy, I won't come back. Well, maybe I will for the funeral..."

"It's Sam… and I never said I wouldn't give it to you. As soon as Dean can look me in the eye and tell me he's alright, it's all yours. _"You give me the bullet, I give you Dean" _ I believe were your exact words, 

weren't they? You give me all of Dean, not just a half dead body that may never wake up once you're long gone. That's the deal, take it or leave it." His tone was bold and she was taken slightly aback by it.

"You know I can just kill him right now, don't you? Then I can just kill you both and take what I want. I am trying to make this fair for all parties involved."

"Go ahead, kill us all. It still won't get you what you want," Sam smiled broadly in near victory this time as he finally stood and met her face to face at the door, stopping just slightly short to keep himself safe behind the salt. The glint of the fluorescent lights against metal gave her a slight moment of pause until she saw what he actually held in his hand and his smile widened even farther when he glanced at the symbol-adorned flask that was now at eye level then back to her, shaking it gently to let her hear what floated around in the holy water inside. "You can't touch it… so have at it, bitch. Kill us all… but the bullet stays here."

"Ok, have it your way. I really don't want Dean taking a dirt nap just yet anyway. You will have to let me in though; I can't do anything from out her in the hallway," she readily conceded as she glared at the young hunter who seemed to have gotten the best of her.

"I figured as much," Sam glared at her from where he stood. Handing Bobby the flask, he listened as the man took the few steps to the tiny bathroom before bending down and dragging his finger through the salt line to break it, allowing her access to the room that lie just beyond her limitations.

"You really are an untrusting soul, aren't you," she huffed when her eyes fell on the thick line of salt running across the bathroom entryway with Bobby standing behind it watching every move she made.

With his eyes fixed to her and carefully studying her every movement, Sam watched as she approached Dean's helpless body with an anxious anticipation. Resting her hand across his too warm forehead, she touched her lips to his ear and whispered softly into it something that Sam couldn't hear, the words themselves starting the flat lines to jump and dance across the screen. They were little peaks and spikes here and there but they were steady ones and the more she spoke, the faster they seemed to come. Patting him once or twice on the chest for good measure, the red-eyed woman let her gaze turn blue again as she turned to leave when the sounds of footsteps started coming down the hall, but she quickly leered at Sam one last time before exiting.

"I'll be back, count on it Sam," she hissed and was out of sight nearly before either man could blink.

"That was too easy," Sam ominously commented as Bobby approached him, figuring it safe for the time being to step out of the protected area he'd temporarily banished himself in.

"Tell me about it. Barely and argument before she left."

"You think she's up to something?"

"I wouldn't doubt it, but we'll see."

"Do you know her? She looks familiar for some reason," Sophia questioned as she breezed into the room alone and pointed in the angry, blonde woman's direction.

"Nope, she's just got the wrong room," Sam casually lied. It was a lot easier than coming up with some line of bullshit to feed the young doctor yet again. "Where's the specialist?"  
"He's on his way up. Sorry it took so long for me to get back but I had to wait for him to… uh Sam, when did that monitor go off?" She asked with a modicum of surprise in her voice when she caught her first glimpse of the active beeping in the corner. Blowing past Sam without waiting for him to respond, she yanked her penlight from her pocket as she pulled Dean's eyelids apart one by one and shined the tiny bright light into them with a slight hint of a smile.

"It didn't… why?" He innocently questioned back, playing as dumb as he possibly could. "Is something wrong?"

"Definitely not wrong. I would have to say that whatever La La Land your brother decided to spend the last couple of days in he seems to have returned from."

"What?" Sam expressed some surprise, albeit it feigned, just for appearances sake.

"Look, steady brain activity and his eyes are responding to light. Damn, it's about time something started going right for a change."

Acknowledging what should have been the good news that Sophia was nearly gushing with by simply nodding his head and nothing else, Sam dragged his chair back from its spot next to the door to his brother's side and took up residence in it in his usual spot, his total lack of excitement baffling the young woman standing there watching him. When Bobby mirrored Sam's actions, she was even more perplexed at the lack of excitement in the room.

"What is it Sam?" She had to ask when the brother and their 'uncle' said nothing. "This is a huge step in his recovery; you know that, don't you?"

"I'll be happy when he's awake, that's all," Sam told her matter-of-factly, not sharing in her enthusiasm.

"Give him some time, I'm sure he will," she tried to reassure both men, her tone light and positive.

"Yeah, that's what I'm afraid of," he mumbled to himself, knowing she would be back when he was.

Six days. For six long days Sam sat at his brother's side without leaving for anything other than an occasional trip to the cafeteria when Bobby forced him to go and eat just so he would take a break or the to the bathroom when duty called but each and every time he would reluctantly separate his ass from his seat, he made damn sure Bobby was right there in his place, just in case. He'd watch Dean like a hawk keenly following a rabbit's trail, ready to swoop down and attack at the first signs of life, desperately wanting him to just open his eyes and look at him. His face no longer had the peacefully serene look it had initially taken on over first couple days but would now occasionally twist up in pain or twitch as if he was fighting something that kept getting the better of him no matter how hard he tried.

The first forty-eight hours after her angered departure had been the hardest for Sam to sit through as Dean's temperature would spike dangerously high then fall back to manageable more times than anyone could count now that his brother seemed to finally be waging a war against himself, until it slowly tapered down to a steady 101 where it held for the last three days. Little by little his lungs started clearing themselves out to allow more room for air as antibiotics started kicking in and aided him in his battle but they still had no real desire to take their expected workload back up just yet. Much to Sam's dismay, Sophia had started sedating him at the first signs of positive brain activity for fear of him waking abruptly and in a state of disorientation pulling tubes out of places they needed to be in, leaving Sam to wonder if Dean would ever wake up. As days went by, she would reduce the dose just a little in the hopes that he would start to stir, which finally happened a full week later.

No one noticed the fluttering of the eyelids when it started or the increased frequency of eyebrow movement as Dean tried forcing the lids apart with an immense effort. The closer he came to awareness, the more he noticed the sounds around him and it didn't take total coherence for him to figure out exactly where he was. The noises coming from the machines in the corner were all too familiar to him and brought back painful memories of just a few short months earlier when both his and Sam's lives had been drastically and permanently altered. With his eyes barely at half staff, he cautiously moved them from left to right in search of a familiar face. When his sights finally landing on a messy pile of unkempt brown hair just to his side, he forced up a hand and tapped the head that was resting on the mattress just next to him with barely enough force to pull the dozing man somewhat out of the sleep he was in.

"Cut it out, Bobby. You know I hate it when you poke me in the back of the head like that," Sam mumbled half-intelligibly as he tried swatting the disturbing hand away. Slightly irritated at his little brother's ignorant dismissal of his attempt at garnering attention, he drew up a now very heavy arm and just let gravity take care of the rest as the limb landed hard against Sam's noggin.

"What the…" he jerked his eyes open and darted them around the room in search of his antagonist, who he was sure had to have been the one to ever so kindly crack him in the skull but the second he caught sight of the hand now laying next to him and lightly tapping a finger against the mattress, he followed it up past the shoulder to the face that was groggily staring at him through very glassy, yet partially opened eyes.

"Dean? Are you really awake or am I just dreaming again?" Sam asked, clearly fumbling for words and he nearly fell from his seat when Dean held his gaze and gently shook his head yes. He opened his mouth to speak but no matter how hard he tried, he just could make any words come out and for a moment it started to panic him. Sam saw the fear and confusion clearly written on his face and started talking to his brother to calm what he was sure was going to happen next before it could start.

"Dude, you can't talk so don't even try," Sam tried to tell him. If he couldn't ask questions with his voice he would just have to resort to an unspoken method of communication and it was plain as day by the way Dean scrunched his eyebrows together at the center of his forehead in a sharp, downward motion what he was asking and Sam tried to find the most delicate way of answering.

"You're sick Dean, really sick and you can't breathe on your own right now," Sam started to tell him as he put most of what little energy he had into raising a hand to search his face for what he thought should be shoved down his throat but frowned when he found nothing obstructing his mouth that would prevent him from speaking and as his hand drifted south to find the source of his inability to communicate, fully intent on removing the obstruction, Sam just reached for it and forced it back down again before Dean 

could find it and rip it out. With the sharp roll of his eyes, the younger brother knew what Dean wanted to be told next and he wasted no time filling him in.

"Hands off that man. It's breathing for you so just let it do its job. You managed to catch one of the worst cases of pneumonia this hospital has ever seen. You almost didn't…" he choked up halfway through what he was trying to say and breathed a sigh of relief when he didn't have to finish it, the gravelly voice coming from the door shutting him up momentarily.

"Who the hell are you talkin' to Sam. You keep yakking with yourself, they may put you in another kind of room?" Bobby approached briskly when he heard the falter in the younger sibling's tone. He had been listening to almost every word from the door and knew Dean was awake but gave Sam a little bit of private time before barging in. "Well, if Rip Van Winkle ain't finally awake. 'Bout damn time too. I was afraid we were gonna have to sell your car to pay your damn hospital bill."

Wearily dragging his eyes in Bobby's direction, he mustered enough strength to greet him with just one finger and the older man just laughed, the relief he felt hidden well behind the comic outburst. Turning back to Sam, he tried glancing at where his watch should be and raised his eyebrows ever so slightly and Bobby was amazed that Sam knew exactly what he was wordlessly trying to ask.

"Eight days man, you've been out for eight days. Do you even remember getting sick?" Sam knew he couldn't answer the question with anything more than the nod of his head but he had to ask. His brother was way too calm and he somehow doubted Dean even knew where he was, let alone what had happened to him. Shaking his head no confirmed what Sam thought and he didn't know whether or not to be relieved or distressed.

"What's the last thing you do remember?" Sam idiotically asked and he could see Dean trying to figure out how to answer him. The only thing he could think to do was point a finger at Bobby and curl his lip up in a snarl with his hands curled into claws, that confused look returning to his face when he notice that not both of his hands complied with his wishes.

"Yeah, the Yeti. Don't worry, Bobby already took care of it for us… and it wasn't a Yeti," Sam cracked when he saw the distressed look start to return to his brother's eyes, trying to throw a little smirk in with it for good measure in the hopes of distracting him.

Shrugging off his brother's half chuckled comment, Dean nearly hit Sam in the face with his left hand as he pointed to it with his right, wanting to know not only why it was wrapped in mounds of gauze and tape but why the thick black brace around it prevented him from moving most of his fingers. If punching his little brother was the only way to get his point across, then so be it.

"Oh, that…" he started to explain but wasn't quite quick witted enough to make up something that his brother would believe and the pause in his words caught the older brother's less-than-undivided attention instantly. Sam wasn't really sure how much of the truth he wanted to tell Dean just yet but he didn't honestly know what to say to explain the hand away at that particular instant. Dean obviously couldn't remember any of the events in Chester, at least for the moment, and Sam wasn't sharing them right now, that he knew for sure. "I'll explain that later. Just stop worrying about what happened and concentrate on getting better so we can get the hell out of here, ok? Don't fight the ventilator either because if you do, your doctor will just sedate you again which means it'll be back to lights out and I don't think I can take another eight days of staring at your ugly mug in silence, ok?"

Looking at Sam with one eye squeezed shut tight as the other eyebrow rose high on his forehead, he basically told Sam _'Nice dodge, but you'll tell me everything later' _before closing the other eye that he could barely keep open anymore. He couldn't fight the ventilator even if he wanted to, he was that damn tired. He could hear Sam and Bobby talking as he drifted back to sleep but he really didn't care what they were saying. He'd find out soon enough, one way or another; even if he had to beat it out of Sam.

Sam waited until he was sure his brother had fallen totally asleep again before pointing out the big, pink elephant of realization in the neon green tutu that was now dancing around in both of their minds. Looking at one another with their thoughts most definitely on the same page, Sam reached for Dean's phone and palmed it, expecting it to start vibrating any second.

"Think she knows?" Sam voiced the question even though he already knew what the answer would be.

"Count on it. Keep an eye on the door Sam because she didn't leave in the best of moods and who knows how hormonal she'll be when she comes back."


	27. The End

A/N: Well, here it is. The big finish. Thanks to everyone that took the time to read and I guess I'll see some of you around!

Epilogue

"How long was he awake for?" Sophia directed her question at Sam rather sternly as she conducted her physical examination of the once again sleeping older brother, the few hours since he'd stirred passing all too slowly for Sam liking.

"About five or ten minutes before he fell back asleep," Sam informed her while he watched her poke and prod his brother's ribs and chest and albeit she did it gently, he could still see Dean's face twist up slightly when she applied pressure against his sternum. Had he been able to, Sam was also pretty sure he would have let out a slight moan to go along with it.

"That's a start. Was he aware of what was going on around him? I mean, did it seem like he recognized you or was he just taking things in rather blankly?" She hurriedly asked next, almost as if conducting an interrogation.

"He recognized me. He recognized us both. He even wanted to know what happened and how long he'd been here before he nodded back off," Sam summed up the 'conversation' between the three of them for her, leaving out the half-dazed notion Dean had about removing all his tubes and wires so he could just speak to his little brother.

"Did he seem anxious or agitated that he couldn't breathe?" She brought up the subject almost as if she had known exactly what Sam had been thinking. "No panic attacks or anything like that?"

"Nope. All in all, he was pretty calm and took what I told him pretty well." _"Yeah, he was pretty calm because he has no idea what the hell happened to him whatsoever. If he starts remembering and pieces things together though…'_

"Why didn't anyone call me?" She interrupted his thoughts as she turned in Sam's direction after pulling the sheet back up that they had finally decided to drape over Dean's sides and chest to cover him with once his fever had mercifully started going down; the chest that now sported bruises of a no longer black and blue variety but an interesting green and yellow hue instead and Sam couldn't have been happier when Sophia had hid them from his constant view. He'd watched those marks that spread across nearly every inch of his brother's torso change in shade over the last eight days and really didn't want to have them screaming at him in anger at their presence anymore.

"Because it was five o'clock in the morning and I'm sure you were at home sleeping," Sam stated somewhat defensively, her attitude making him feel like he had done something wrong. "We told his nurse and she said she'd let you know what happened when you called to check in."

"She did, but I still would have liked to have known when it happened. I want to be paged the second he wakes up again and try to keep him awake until I get here. That's not going to be easy considering he'll be drifting in and out like that a lot over the next few days, but now that he's starting to come around, I'm hoping we can get him breathing again. The longer he's on that damn machine, the harder it'll be to get him off it," she nearly made her request sound like an order as she barked it and Sam was beginning to wonder if there was something she wasn't telling him. For the first time since he had met her she seemed overly irritable. He was poised to ask the question when she just continued on, cutting off the inquiry before it ever got started. "As soon as he wakes up again, I want to get a respiratory therapist in here to start weaning him off it. I don't like how dependant he still is on it now that his chest x-rays look a whole lot better."

Sam heard the comment she had made but could clearly tell there was a lot more bothering Sophia than just Dean's severe lack of self-sustained breathing. He had only known her for eight days but those eight days had already felt like a lifetime to him. "Should I be worried? Is there something else you haven't told me yet because you seem a little tense today?" He asked her in a subtly begging tone and when he gave her that boyishly charming look that included a flash of dimple, she just couldn't help but reveal what was really bugging her.

"No, it's nothing, really…well, ok, yes it is," she tried keeping it to herself but decided there was no point in not sharing her concerns. "Do you remember that blonde woman that was here a few days ago? You know; the one that nearly knocked me down in the hall when she came out of the room like a bat out of hell?"

"Yeah, what about her?" Sam hesitantly asked as his stomach started to sink, the '_bat out of hell'_ comment hitting the nail on the head a little harder than Sophia even knew.

"Well, I keep seeing her roaming the floor but nobody seems to know who she is. None of the other patient's families know her and every time I try to stop her to ask her why she's here, I swear she just disappears into thin air. I'd swear she was a ghost if I was the only one that's seen her but I'm not and it's starting to aggravate me a little," she confessed and Sam now knew **she** had been watching them all along and wondered how neither he nor Bobby had seen her spying on them.

"I guess that's kinda weird, unless one of the other patients doesn't want their family to know he knows her, if you get my drift," he waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively and she knew exactly what his drift had been. He innocently tried placating Sophia when he noticed she was getting even more annoyed the more she thought about the blonde mystery woman. "If I see her again, I'll try to stop her for you if that'll help."

"If you do, have the nurses call security. She doesn't need to be wandering the halls for no reason. This is a hospital after all, not a "No-Tell Motel'," she huffed before storming out of the room without saying another word and as serious as the situation was, Sam couldn't help but chuckle at her uncharacteristic attempt to display some sort of anger.

He'd had Sophia paged nearly four hours later when he noticed his brother had started to stir again and was more than grateful for the distraction now that both he and Bobby had sat in near silence after Sam had filled the older man in on the fact that their demon friend had been stalking the halls for nearly a week waiting to pounce on Dean like a tiger hungry for raw meat. By the time Dean had opened his eyes and focused them enough to make definite eye contact with Sam, Sophia had made her way to the room with a rather grumpy looking, pleasantly plump older woman right behind her. She stood silently in the doorway to observe the interaction between the brothers for the briefest of moments as Sam did all of the talking while Dean just listened with an overly animated face before she slid up to the bedside and effectively ending whatever discussion they may have been having. Dean was conscious but, for how long remained to be seen and Sophia fully intended on making the most of what little time they may have.

"Dean, this is Sophia," Sam made the introduction to his brother when he had started glaring somewhat angrily at the young woman that had interrupted them and had rudely but gently started nudging Sam out of the way. Sam saw the irritation written all over his brother's weary face and figured he had better squash it now before Sophia took the brunt of whatever Dean may be able to silently dish out, which could very well be quite a bit more than the she was willing to take, voice or no voice. "She's your doctor."

"And I'm very happy to finally be meeting you," she cheerily announced. The chipper tone of her voice did nothing positive for Dean's already nasty disposition and her arrival just made him close his eyes again in the hopes of drifting back to sleep now that he no longer had just Sam as his audience. He was too damn tired to deal with a doctor right now. All he wanted to do was find out what the hell had happened to him over the last eight days and be left alone to fall back into the painless nothing he enjoyed being in. He knew that wasn't going to happen when she continued talking though and he quickly realized that, as pretty as she was, her voice grated enough on his nerves to keep him awake until the end of time if need be. "Can you tell me how you feel?"

She knew he hadn't listened to a word she said as he lay in the bed with his eyes squeezed tightly together, trying to block out the world around him in the hope that it would just go away. Wanting nothing less than his full attention, she pinched his chin gently between her thumb and forefinger and turned his head towards her, the action forcing him to crack his eyes open to glare at her yet again. She had already been warned by Sam that Dean was a difficult patient but she really hadn't believed it until now. Toning down her voice to a soft, almost whisper, she spoke directly to him and him alone, the unwavering eye contact she made helping to get her point across.

"From what your brother has told me, you seen to have a severe aversion to hospitals which I can totally understand. Nobody ever wants to be at the mercy of others and not in total control of themselves. You probably don't even realize how sick you really were or how hard all of this has been on not just you but Sam as well. Just keep in mind that all we want is the same thing Sam wants and that's to get you better so you can go home," her voice oozed calm and she could feel Dean's tensed up body start to relax under the hand she had rested lightly on his chest that he hadn't even realized was there, the calming effect she was having on him amazing Sam more than anyone. She knew exactly what strings of his to play to make a melodious tune and she was strumming them with an incredible precision. "We can't let you go home until you can breathe though. I know it's an unfair technicality, but do you think you can let us help you do that so your brother will stop worrying himself sick every day and night?"

Dean let his body go limp now that she had taken all the fight he'd built up inside over the last couple of 

minutes away from him with just a few well-spoken words and Sam could almost hear the heavy sigh Dean wanted to let out but couldn't as he gave up and totally relaxed. Sophia smiled at him when he just closed his eyes and shook his head and if Sam hadn't seen her cross over the line of salt that had been across the door a week before, he would have been convinced she had some kind of supernatural, mind-reading entity inside her.

"This might be a little uncomfortable for you, but I need to sit you up a just a bit," she warned him before slowly raising the back of the bed to bring Dean's body slightly upright for the first time in over a week but quickly let go of the button to stop the upward motion when he winced and grabbed for his chest. He fearfully searched the room for his brother when he felt the stinging pain rip through him but before Sam could make any move in Dean's direction, Sophia had already taken command. "Just relax and let it pass. What you're feeling right now is perfectly normal considering what you've been through. I'll try to explain everything to you if you really want me to but I need to talk to Sam for a second first, ok?"

Shaking his head in the affirmative at her again, Sophia now knew she had Dean's completely undivided attention and as she turned to approach the younger brother, Sam couldn't believe what he was seeing. As much as his brother hated doctors and hospitals, he sure had warmed up to Sophia quickly. Sam spoke to her first before she could say a word, his own smile that he returned hers with one of sheer surprise.

"You better take advantage of that while you can because I can't guarantee it's not going to last very long," Sam informed her of what he was sure she had already surmised.

"Oh, I plan on it but I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you and your uncle to leave. I think this will be a lot easier for your brother if we do it in private," she started to tell him and she could see Sam didn't like the idea much. "Don't worry Sam, he's in good hands. I promise, ok? Just give us a couple hours alone to let Martha over there work her magic with him."

"A couple hours? You really need that long?"

"Please," Sophia was about ready to make it non-negotiable when Bobby grabbed Sam by the arm and started pulling him towards the door to spare her from having to outright kick the two of them out.

"Come on Sam, you can leave this damn room for a couple of hours to get some fresh air. You haven't been out of this building in over a week anyway and you could sure as hell use the break."

"But…" he started to argue before Sophia cut him off after the first word.

"Now Sam, before he falls back to sleep and we make no progress today," was the last thing she said to him as she shoved while Bobby pulled, giving him a wink and a wave as she closed the door when he was on the other side of it.

"I don't want to leave Bobby, not if she's hanging around," Sam sternly told the older man. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Then don't, but when that doctor asks for privacy, you sure as shit are gonna give it to her. I don't care if you stand outside the door with your nose pressed against it trying to hear what's going on inside as long as you're on this side of it and not that one. We clear?"

"Yeah, we're clear," Sam conceded before flopping into a chair in the waiting area where he could keep one eye on the door and another on the entire hall to scan for any unwanted presences.

He waited the couple hours as patiently as he could and was proud of the fact that he had only chewed the nails of three fingers off entirely before the door finally opened and the two women came out together, both with rather satisfied looks on their faces. Leaping to his feet when Sophia started in his direction, she turned that satisfied look into a wide smile that lit up her whole face and as if it was contagious, Sam smiled in return, not entirely sure why he was smiling at all.

"So?"

"He's breathing…" she started to say but had to grab hold of Sam's arm hard when he made an attempt to bolt towards the room without listening any further. She wasn't finished and he wasn't going anywhere until she was. "Slow down there a second Sam. We made some adjustments so he can breathe around the tube in his throat but the ventilator is still attached and will deliver a breath or two if his oxygen levels fall below a certain point. He can talk a little too, but try to keep it short until he can adjust to the randomization of machine. It can be a little scary when air is forced into your lungs when you're not prepared for it."

"But he can breathe, right?" Sam bellowed the question as if he'd stopped listening after her first two words and everything else had been a waste of time.

"Isn't that what I just said?" She snidely retorted. "He's probably exhausted by now but if he hasn't fallen asleep just yet go ahead and talk to him but make it quick. I have already told him just how serious 

his condition still is and that he needs to get as much rest as he possibly can but I think he's dying to talk to you first."

Sam didn't need to be told twice and was through the door almost before Sophia had let his arm go. Bursting back into the room with the excitement of a small child on Christmas morning, he sat next to his brother's legs on the bed and saw that even though his eyes were barely open, Dean was struggling to keep himself awake until he could finally talk to Sam.

"Hey, how do you feel?" It was a stupid first question but it was one Sam always had to ask. He had to hear it from his brother's own lips before he would believe it.

"Been better… you ok?" Dean whispered back in a scratchy, hoarse voice that was barely audible, each word being said with a long pause between them to take in air.

"Me? I'm not the one that di… almost died so, yeah, I'm ok," Sam almost let that one little secret go and nearly sighed his relief out loud when he saw that his slip of the tongue had gone totally unnoticed.

"Sammy… what happened?" He begged to be told even though keeping his eyes open was getting harder and harder as minutes passed by.

"Do we really need to talk about this right now Dean? You really should get some sleep like the doctor said," Sam tried dodging the subject again but his brother wasn't letting it go so easily this time.

"Yes… now. I need to know," the half-asleep man insisted and Sam was sure now that Dean wasn't going to let himself fall back to asleep until Sam spilled.

"What do you remember?" He tested the waters of what Dean's hazy memories, hoping he still had no recollection of the events of the last week and a half.

"Driving… arguing… flat tire, that's it," he slowly managed to get out with a great deal of effort before closing one eye and started listening.

"Yeah, one of the tires blew out. You were so mad at me when you pulled over and I offered to fix it that I just stayed in the car when you stormed out. I don't really know what the hell happened after that. You must have wandered off into the snow because the next thing I knew, you were gone. I called Bobby the second you went missing and it took us nearly two days to find you. When we finally did track you down to an old, abandoned barn, you were curled up in a ball and nearly dead," Sam spun his tale with effortless ease and Dean was really too tired to doubt one word of it. "Your hand was sliced open pretty bad and you were barely breathing. By the time Bobby and I got you back to the car you had sort of… I mean I had to…"

"S'ok Sam, I already know," he said to spare his brother the harshest memories. Sophia had already told him how his ribs and sternum had been so badly fractured when he asked her why his chest and sides still felt like the weight of the earth was resting on it. Sophia had actually told him just about everything that had been or still was wrong with him. "So, stabbed myself, eh?"

"Yeah…well, you were so whacked out nothing you did would have surprised me," Sam continued lying through his teeth as Dean continued believing every word he said, the break in his voice not entirely feigned. "For Christ's sake Dean, I honestly didn't think you'd ever wake up when they told me…"

"Forget it Sammy… I'm alright," Dean knew the conversation was upsetting Sam more than a little and decided he had heard enough for one day too. "Tired Sam… just gonna sleep now."

With the tremendous effort he had gathered up from some unknown source now fully spent, Dean had fallen heavily into sleep as the last words came from his lips and as much as Sam had wanted to talk to Dean more, he was thankful he didn't have continue lying to him for now. He'd been so absorbed in the conversation he never thought he'd ever be able to have with his brother again to even notice that he wasn't alone in the room and as the air around him turned cold, he suddenly realized it wasn't Bobby watching him from the darkest corner. She was like a great white swimming through the open waters and Dean's words had been the tiniest drop of blood that her keen senses could have smelled from a mile away, giving her good reason to start circling her prey in anticipation of the feast that was about to be served up to her.

"I am such a sucker for a touching family reunion," she mocked as she came forward into the light so that Sam could take a good look at her for what she fully expected to be the last time. "Brotherly love at its best just warms my heart."

"You mean your cold, dead heart?" Sam sneered as he jumped from the bed and repositioned himself to be between the demon woman that could kill with just a touch and Dean's still too fragile body. "Wait a minute; do demons even have hearts?"

"Of course we do, it's why I'm here in the first place," she casually stated before turning deathly serious. "Enough games Sam. I believe YOUR exact words were, and I quote, '_As soon as Dean can look me in _

_the eye and tell me he's alright, it's all yours',_" she repeated the phrase word for word and it wouldn't have bothered Sam had she not repeated it in his voice instead of her own.

"Sounds about right," he confirmed, knowing there was point in denying it.

"I believe those to be Dean's exact words just now as well," she went on and if the sound of his own voice coming from her mouth hadn't been disturbing enough, it nearly made him physically ill to hear Dean's voice roll off her tongue in barely a whisper. _"Forget it Sammy… I'm alright," _she mimicked the eldest Winchester tone before speaking in her own voice to conclude her speech. "Sound vaguely familiar to you, Sam? It should since you just heard it two minutes ago."

"Does he look alright to you?" Sam half-heartedly stated knowing full well that there was no getting around her this time.

"I don't really care how he looks Sam. He said the magic words and if you don't give me what I've come so far for in the next…oh, say sixty seconds, I'll crush his heart right where it beats in his chest into hamburger meat until it can't beat anymore. Clock's ticking Sam and it's winding down pretty darn fast now," she tapped her foot as her eyes drifted up to the ceiling, the tune she whistled along with the occasional glance at her watch enough to chill Sam to the bone.

Pulling the flask he had neatly tucked away in his pocket, he emptied the holy water inside onto the floor and shook out the bullet safely stowed away inside, its weight in his hand a heavy burden on his heart. He knew he was going to have to tell Dean what they had done eventually and he dreaded what that would do to him. After one last look at the little item that had caused more trouble than he thought it to be worth, he lobbed it at her with all the strength he had in the hopes of hitting her but she was entirely too quick for him. Catching it in the palm of her hand, she felt the sizzle of the last few drops of moisture remaining on the metal and if Sam didn't know any better, he would insist that she enjoyed the way it felt against her flesh as it burned her.

"Thanks Sam. Nice doing business with you and don't worry too much about Dean. Something tells me he isn't going to have a whole lot of memories from your exciting little family trip the stunning town of Chester unless you decide to tell him…" she victoriously smiled, but before she could make a quick escape, Sam had to ask the question that had been stuck in his craw since this all had began.

"You know, the least you could do is tell me why you want that thing so bad," he begged the question and she wildly laughed out loud as she pondered just how to answer it.

"Until death do you part has a whole different meaning to us Sam and let's just say there's no divorce court in hell," she grinned as she played with the bullet now in her possession, tossing him one last comment before her departure that left him rather stunned when he heard it. "Say hi to your dad for me. I've got a feeling you may be seeing him a lot sooner than you think."

Before he could say another word to her, she was gone as quickly as she had come and Sam couldn't help but feel a sense of relief that everything finally seemed to be over. Bobby had walked through the door as the room temperature returned to normal, the look on his face when he saw Sam's causing him to worry.

"Sam, what's wrong? You look like someone just stole all your lunch money."

"Didn't you just see her?"

"See who?" Bobby eyed him suspiciously as he asked him the question.

"You know, **Her**, that's who. She was just here and…" he tried to say until the gravelly voice that could barely mouth words spoke up loud enough to be heard.

"Sam… that woman… who?" Dean forced out in a groggy voice. He'd heard that woman before, he was sure of it and with the hairs on the back of his neck now standing on end, he also knew she was dangerous.

"She's no one Dean, just go back to sleep."

"Sounded familiar… I think," he mumbled, not even half aware of what was going on around him but somehow subconsciously agitated by the familiarity in her voice nonetheless.

"She was just a nurse checking up on you, that's all," Sam explained her away easily enough and his brother trusted that Sam was telling him the truth and relaxed again.

"Where'd she go?" Bobby questioned when it was clear that if she had been there, she was gone now.

"She came, I gave her the bullet, and she just left. That's it. No big production, no nothing. She was here one minute and the next she was just gone and I honestly don't think she'll be back."

"What makes you so sure?"

"I don't know, just a feeling I have."

"I sure hope you're right kid because I've had enough of her to last an entire lifetime."

"Same here Bobby, same here."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

As the days dragged by in little more than a blur, Dean slowly started showing signs of improvement. His breathing had become more of his own and less mechanical with each day that passed. Sophia promised Dean that she would disconnect his breathing support when he could go a full forty-eight hours without it blasting him once with a dose of air and much to Sam's excitement, she kept her word after another agonizingly long six days by removing Dean's throat hardware and replacing it with nasal puffs instead, which he would probably be taking with him when he finally did leave.

The re-introduction of food after nearly two weeks of nothing but water and apple juice had not gone as smoothly as it could have at first, but after time that too finally fell into place and even being exhausted nearly all the time, both Winchesters were ready to leave town. The only thing keeping Dean in the hospital bed he seemed to be invisibly chained to was the damn fever that just wouldn't go away. It still teetered between 99 and 100, and even though it wasn't high enough to cause any real concern, Sophia wasn't leaving anything to chance. No, she had already informed both brothers that until Dean was fever free for forty-eight hours, he wasn't going anywhere. Something was still stubbornly lingering inside his body and she fully intended on eradicating it for good. Forty-eight hours gloriously came nearly three days later, three days being how long it had taken for Dean to even realize that Bobby hadn't been around in nearly that much time considering how heavy the fog he was still living in was.

"Sam, where the hell did Bobby go?" Dean had to ask when his curiosity of the man's whereabouts got the better of him. It wasn't like the hunter to just up and leave without saying a word and as he sat on the edge of the bed fully dressed and prepared to leave what he'd come to think of as a prison of sorts, he couldn't help but think about the one person that could do that to him without the slightest hint of regret.

"Home. Sophia told him you wouldn't be able to tolerate breathing in a lot of dust for a while so he figured he better start cleaning up the place before you got there. He took off the second you hit a 98.6 and has been cleaning ever since."

"With all that dust, he shoulda left a week ago," Dean snarked. Bobby's house was nothing but old, dusty books and scrolls and it would take a near miracle to make that house grime free.

"Sam, can I talk to you for a minute?" Sophia poked her head behind the curtain separating the two beds in the room and smiled at Sam and Dean couldn't help but punch him in the arm when he saw the look his little brother gave her back.

"Make sure you get her number, dude. You never know when we'll be passing through this way again and I think she kinda likes you," Dean smirked and winked.

"We already said our goodbyes Dean," Sam told him as he walked out, leaving Dean to sit there open-mouthed with nothing to say.

'_I'm never coming this way again, not if I can help it,' _Sam couldn't help but think as he slipped out into the hall, but regretted it when he noticed the sad look fixed on the pretty, young doctor's face. Truth be told, he really did like her and not just because she had saved his brother's life. She was a kind, gentle soul that held nothing but good inside and finding that in a person was a definite rarity. He couldn't help but think that she was what Dean would have been had their lives not been so tainted by evil almost since his birth.

"You guys just about ready to go?" She asked him almost woefully as she pushed the wheelchair that would take Dean out into the cold, fresh air for the first time in nearly three weeks in front of her.

"I think Dean was ready to leave a week ago so I guess I'd have to say yes."

"Alright then. Don't forget that he has an appointment with a pulmonary specialist in a couple of days for a follow-up so if you end up taking the trip back to your uncle's house slower than originally anticipated, make sure you call and change it," she started giving her instructions to the person that would actually listen to her, tucking a business card for what Sam assumed to be said doctor into his jacket pocket.

"Don't worry, I'll make him go," Sam promised, he being the one that was going to make sure Dean followed all the rules she had laid out.

"Do not cancel it if you can't make it, just change it. It's important that he goes," she emphasized the importance again now in an effort to just stall for time.

"He won't cancel it, I promise. He'll go if I have to drag him there myself."

"That brings me to another reminder. Keep that oxygen close wherever you guys are. It won't take much to wind him for a while and if he gets short of breath you don't want to be scrambling for it or not 

have it at all."

"You worry about all your patients this much?" Sam joked as he smirked and shook his head.

"Only the ones I like," she gently chuckled back. "Oh, and don't forget that he'll tire easily too so when you see him dogging it, make him get some rest whether he likes it or not."

"Alright already. Anything else?"

"No. I think that about covers it. If you're ready and he's ready, let's get you two on the road. It's a long drive back to South Dakota and I do not want you to try making it in one day."

"I thought you said there wasn't anything else," Sam smirked again as he took the chair from her hands and wheeled it into the room where Dean had almost fallen asleep waiting for him.

"Aw, come on. Can't I just walk out?" Dean whole-heartedly whined at the sight of his brother standing behind the seat with his hands wrapped firmly around the grips, the childish way he stated it making Sam silently pat the bottom and smile at his older brother.

"Nope. Hospital policy says you gotta ride down or you can't leave," Sophia squashed the request that Dean knew wasn't going to be granted in the first place and with more effort than he thought it would take, he hopped off the bed and into the chair.

"You have my number if you need anything, right Sam?" Sophia asked Sam one last question and Dean gently punched him in the arm again when he heard it.

"I do… and thank you. Thank you for everything."

"The pleasure was all mine. Just remember, I still have never met a germ I couldn't kill so if you ever need anything, do not hesitate to call."

"Oh don't worry, he won't," Dean winked at her and then extended a hand in an offer to shake hers. Not his typical way of saying goodbye to a pretty woman, but for today it would have to do. Taking hers in his and shaking it gently, he finished the comment that would have earned him a smack in the head from Sam had Sophia not been watching them both. "He won't hesitate, I mean… and ditto what Sam said… thanks."

"Dean, I honestly hope that the next time I see you it's under much better circumstances."

"Yeah, same here. Sam, can we please go now?"

Throwing Sophia a slight wave and a dimpled smile, the brothers turned and exited the room that they were both more than ready to leave behind and quietly made their way down the stairs and out the doors into the frigid, mid-morning air. Even with the car parked just beyond the door, the cold winds that slapped Dean in the face did nothing to help his already pained attempts at breathing in the icy oxygen outside. It had taken nearly all the energy he had had to just sit himself in the front seat of his anxiously awaiting baby and when Sam had finally slammed the door shut to cut off the chilly air assaulting his brother, Dean took in the deepest breaths of the warmth inside that he could handle without coughing, the heat slowly starting to calm his shocked lungs. Sam climbed into the driver's seat after returning the wheelchair to the doors but said nothing to his brother when he saw his face had gone three shades of pale, knowing that Dean did not want to be babied or smothered in anymore. He just watched as his brother rested his head against the seat and closed his eyes, almost looking forward to the long trip ahead of them.

Sam had been thinking far too much over the last few hours as they made their way west and when Dean started to rouse from the light sleep the rumble of the Impala's engine had helped him fall into, he initiated the conversation he had wanted to have nearly a week ago.

"Hey Dean?"

"I'm fine Sam," he answered, pretty sure that was the question about to come from his little brother's lips next.

"That's nice, but it's not what I was going to ask you," Sam quickly responded, somewhat proud of the fact that he had not been as predictable as his brother seemed to think him to be.

"Oh, so you don't care anymore, is that it," Dean chided back. He had a lot of ribbing to catch up on.

"You really want me to answer that?" Sam flatly stated, knowing that would end the debate when Dean realized that Sam could talk all day if nobody stopped him.

"Uh, no. So, what's on your mind then?"

"You really don't remember anything that happened? I mean nothing at all?" The question was asked with a slight hint of hesitation that Dean didn't pick up on.

"Not really. Everything's pretty damn fuzzy and no matter how hard I try, I just can't seem to make anything clear. I do remember having this really weird dream though…"

"Oh, really? What about?" That revelation had peaked his interest and he definitely wanted to hear this.

"I don't know man, it was like I died or something and Mom was there trying to take me up to heaven or wherever else dead people go. She said something about you bringing me back to life but I had to decide whether to come with her or stay here with you. I could swear I saw you too through this haze and damn it if you weren't holding me like a friggin' baby and crying like a girl."

"Yeah, that is a weird dream. So, what the hell happened next?" Sam tried to casually prod Dean to continue. He knew that had been no dream and as much as he didn't want to know what his brother decided to do, he couldn't help but ask.

"Weird is right. I gave her a big hug and told her to take me with her but the next thing I knew she was gone and everything was dark. Man, it's scary how real that all seemed."

"Yeah, scary," Sam absently mumbled. He had pulled his brother away from their mother yet again and would live with that guilt for the rest of his life. Trying to push those feelings aside, he continued pushing ever so gently. "Anything else?"

"It gets a little creepy from there. I swear I must have been just laying around in the cold for days when you showed up asking me about…" he paused for a second when he realized what he was about to say, not wanting to say it out loud because he knew it all had to have been nothing more than a dream. "I don't really remember what the hell you were asking me. Next thing I knew you were gone too and I was alone again until I woke up looking at your ugly mug. That's about it. Why so interested, anyway? Did I get molested by a Harley riding group of midgets or something that you're afraid to tell me about?"

"Nah, just curious what was going through my big brother's crazy head, that's all."

"Well, right now lunch is going through my head because it sure as hell ain't going through my stomach," Dean hinted and Sam took it.

"Next town is in 33 miles. Just sit back and relax 'til then. I'm pretty sure you won't starve to death before we get there," he tried sounding cool and Dean was either too worn out or too hungry to really care. Closing his eyes and resting his head back against the seat, he mumbled something Sam was sure had to be directed at his manhood before he drifted back to sleep once again. Mumbling something entirely different once he was deeply back in his slumber, Sam clearly heard the word bullet come from his brother's lips and as much as Sam didn't want to, he knew he would have to tell Dean everything eventually and he would eventually tell him what happened, but not today. Today he was just thankful his brother was alive and sitting next to him and for now, that was all he wanted to think about.

The End


End file.
